Insubordination
by louella
Summary: Alex puts herself at risk and Gene can't take it anymore. FINAL CHAPTER NOW PUBLISHED. Let me know what you think.
1. Chapter 1

**Insubordination**

"You're a disgrace to this department. You've let me down and you've let your colleagues down. You should be ashamed of yourself." Gene's fury was barely leashed as he stood and pointed angrily across his desk at his DI. "You put yourself in danger so you could go on some unnecessary ego trip," he continued, his temper held in check by the most fragile of threads. "You wandered into a hostage situation with no agreed plan of action, no back-up and no bloody clue. It's a flaming miracle that everyone got out of this unscathed."

Alex stared across at him, her own anger rising in the face of Gene's unfair accusations. "I had a plan!" she shot back. "Just because you didn't authorise it doesn't mean it didn't exist!"

"Oh, you had a plan, did you? Shame you didn't think to share it with anyone before going barrelling into that bank office. You were unarmed, for God's sake!"

Alex rolled her eyes, praying for patience that was fast deserting her. "Going in there armed would only have inflamed the situation. I knew what I was doing, Gene. I'm a trained negotiator, a fact that you seem to keep forgetting."

Gene closed his eyes in exasperation. He knew she was right – she'd been in difficult positions before and talked her way out of them – but he was still livid that she'd put herself at risk by entering a hostage situation with nothing but her wits and quick thinking to defend herself.

"You didn't follow protocol," he snapped at her.

"Protocol? That's rich, coming from you. Not exactly famous for following the rulebook yourself, Gene."

"Don't try and turn this around, Drake, you're not making this about me! This is about you and your inability to assess the risks before making decisions."

"I knew that not going in would have been the greater risk. The hostage taker was at the point of taking a life – an innocent life, Gene – and my actions prevented that. In fact, my actions ensured that no lives were taken, no shots fired at all. You should be commending me, not bullying me."

Anger continued to course through Gene's veins, his hands shaking with the force of the emotion. He stuffed them in his pockets. He'd be damned if he'd let her see his weakness.

The problem was that every time Gene closed his eyes, all he could picture was Alex walking into that branch of Barclays, completely alone and frighteningly vulnerable. The blagger had turned to face her, shifting the aim of his handgun from his hostages to her. His eyes had looked wild, his hands unsteady. He'd been a kid on the verge of losing whatever control he'd had.

And all Gene, Ray and the rest could do was look through a window and watch. Gene had never felt so helpless. He'd watched as the hostage taker had waved the gun in Alex's direction, making wild demands and flinging crazy accusations. He'd held his breath each time the blagger had directed his gun at her head. And he'd watched with growing relief as Alex had talked him down, calming him through the power of her language, persuading him to turn himself in.

It had been when the blagger took aim at Alex's head and threatened to blow her away that Gene had faced his startling revelation. He had suddenly pictured his life without her in it and it terrified him. But what scared him more was the prospect of her continuing as his DI, working with him every day but never being truly his. It struck him then: that this was the sort of pain from which he could never recover.

Gene took a deep breath and moderated his voice, anger giving way to icy indifference.

"I ordered you to wait for back up. I ordered you to disclose your plan of action. And you ignored those orders. I cannot have that level of insubordination on my team."

Alex took a sharp breath, brow wrinkled in confusion. "Guv?"

"Put in for a transfer, Drake. Take annual leave until it comes through. I don't want you back in this office again."

He turned away, holding his door open for her, not meeting her eyes as she walked uncertainly past him. He closed the door softly behind her, drew the blinds and sat at his desk. Pouring himself a large scotch, he nodded his head slowly. He felt hollow – as if he'd suffered some terrible, aching loss – but he knew this was the best course of action in the long run. He took a long swig from his tumbler and welcomed its fiery heat as it spread through his body, numbing his pain. Yes, a quick, sharp separation was preferable to the alternative as he saw it; death by a thousand cuts.


	2. Chapter 2

Alex sat alone in her flat, a half-finished bottle of wine at her feet and a directory of Met police divisions open on the coffee table. She'd been flicking through the pages, wondering where she was supposed to go next, whether there was a specific path she was supposed to follow that would lead her home. She pushed aside the nagging feeling that she already was where she was supposed to be.

Gene had made it clear enough, earlier that day, that she was no longer welcome in his domain. She had to admit she'd tested his authority on more than one occasion, but like today's escapade at the bank, she'd usually been proved right in the end. So it was galling to be dismissed just for having succeeded where the Guv had failed.

Of course, Alex admitted to herself, when it came to a copper's instinct and a commitment to collaring the bad guys, Gene had no equal. She might not always agree with his methods but there was no denying that he got results and kept the streets safer for the law-abiding majority.

So she needed to find a new team. What would her new DCI be like? Through tired eyes, Alex scanned yet another page from the Met directory. She wasn't really taking anything in; the three glasses of red probably didn't help her concentration.

Sighing, she leaned back against the sofa and propped her feet up on the coffee table. She rubbed a hand across her eyes, covered her mouth to stifle a yawn. It didn't seem real. One minute it had been situation normal – another fierce argument with Gene over processes and procedures – and the next she was out of the team and looking for a new post.

She forced herself to her feet and into the kitchen. A cup of coffee would help. She needed a clear head to focus properly on her future. She repeated her mantra: everything is significant. If Gene had decided she needed go, there must be a reason. No point fighting it. View it as an opportunity. A stepping stone on the journey back to 2008.

And yet. Alex flicked the switch on the kettle, put a teaspoon of coffee powder into a mug. Drummed her fingers on the counter-top as she waited for the water to boil. And yet.

And yet, she was scared. She'd become comfortable at Fenchurch East, among Sam's cast-off constructs and her own original creations. She'd assumed that the answer to her conundrum lay with her idiosyncratic team. Was struggling with the idea that fate was sending her elsewhere.

Alex was jolted from her musings by the flick of the kettle as it switched itself off. She poured water into her mug, added sugar and returned to the comfort of her sofa. Tugged thoughtfully on a ringlet of hair. Could she really see a future for herself in 1981 in some other police division? She took a gulp of her coffee, wincing at the scalding liquid, forcing herself to consider her options once again.

OK. She could pick a new team, hopefully one with a slightly more sympathetic DCI, and allow fate to dictate what happened beyond then.

Or she could find someone – maybe the Super – who would be willing to offer her some advice, give her a pointer about where she should look for her next placement. By putting the decision in someone else's hands, she would be allowing an external agency to guide her; perhaps that was how she'd find out the best way home.

The dog-eared police directory stared at her reproachfully from the position on the coffee table where she'd dumped it. Alex took another swallow of the hot coffee and, a resigned expression pulling at her features, picked up the brochure again. She scanned down the list of names, addresses, photos and specialisms, hoping that this time there would be some blinding flash of insight, but nothing came.

Instead, she found herself looking once again at the listing for her own division at Fenchurch East. Gene was named as DCI, herself as DI. She'd become used to seeing their names paired together like that, on reports and statements, and it would be odd to see herself attached to some new DCI in some other part of town.

Next to Gene's name appeared a small, passport-style photograph. He was scowling into the camera, tie askew, lower lip jutting out angrily, hair that looked like it hadn't seen a comb in at least a few days. Alex smiled. She could picture the Guv's reaction to being informed he needed to provide a photo for the directory: he'd protest about wasting his time with some pointless, internal, bureaucratic bullshit before submitting the least flattering of the four shots that fell out of the chute at the photo booth. Alex ran her thumb across his image, imagining his warm, rough skin beneath her fingers. She couldn't tear her eyes from his as they glared at her from the page.

Alex thought back to the meal they'd shared, the one before her parents had died, when she'd thought she'd be going home. She'd told him then she'd miss him. She wouldn't miss him any less now. More so, in fact, as the intervening months had drawn them closer together. Alex thought back over her time in 1981. She'd had fun with some here-today-gone-tomorrow men, had illuminating and excruciating moments with her mother, had learnt more about the sacrifices made by her Godfather. But there was no denying it; she'd never felt more alive than when she'd been with Gene. He needled her, questioned her, challenged her at every turn. He duelled with verbally, the sharpness of his retorts belying his oafish image, and fought his corner using the sheer strength of his personality. He was a man to be reckoned with, in every sense. And now she was supposed to be leaving him.

It felt all wrong. Somehow, Alex knew that things between her and Gene were still incomplete. Could it be right to leave Fenchurch East when so much between she and her boss remained unresolved? And she felt it wasn't just their professional relationship that needed some sort of closure before she could move on.

Alex had long since admitted to herself that she found something unnervingly attractive about the uber-masculine DCI. He was a million miles from her usual type; she'd always gone for men who were liberal, gentle, _safe_. Her desire for Gene frightened her, so she pushed it aside and refused to consider acting on it. She wasn't even sure whether Gene reciprocated her feelings; after all, despite all his talk, he'd turned her down once already when she'd made a tentative offer.

Flopping back against the sofa, Alex closed the directory with a snap and threw it carelessly onto the floor. Perhaps Gene's dismissal of her had been some sort of test; checking whether she had the strength to take the hardest course instead of just accepting what the fates threw at her. If so, she couldn't leave yet. Not until she knew for sure what Gene felt about her. She didn't examine too closely why this outcome seemed more appealing to her than the others she'd considered.

She nodded to herself. Tomorrow. She'd find out where she stood with him tomorrow. And maybe that way she'd stay on the path towards home.


	3. Chapter 3

Gene sat at his desk, pretending to catch up on paperwork. He'd growled at Chris when the DC had asked his opinion about their latest case and snapped at Shaz when she'd offered him a cup of tea. Even Ray had found himself in the firing line when he'd made some innocent comment about how peaceful the office seemed without Drake around. After that, the rest of the team had given him a wide berth and he hadn't spoken to anyone else for the rest of the morning.

A quick glance at his watch showed that it was fast approaching lunchtime. He sighed and stared, once again, at Alex's empty desk. Christ almighty, it had only been one flaming morning and he was already missing the bloody woman. Now he faced having lunch alone in Luigi's when previously he would've gone with Bolly, talking over their cases, laughing at their colleagues, and grimacing about the latest piece of bureaucratic bollocks to come down from the top floor.

Sighing, Gene gave up any pretence of work and sat back in his chair, feet propped on the edge of the desk. He used to know where he was in his life, what he was about, what he wanted and how to get it. His ambitions were modest – score a few points for the men in white Stetsons, lock up the scum, enjoy a pint with a couple of mates and tolerate the wife – but now everything was uncertain. It wasn't enough any more to catch the people he knew were the villains, he had to have the paperwork to prove it. He'd tolerated the wife but it hadn't stopped her leaving him. And, he admitted reluctantly to himself, Alex made him want things in his life that he'd never dreamed of before. Things he'd never thought would even be within his reach. It was eating away at his insides. The sad truth was that he'd been happier when he hadn't known what he was missing.

He'd never met anyone like her before. He couldn't put his finger on it. It wasn't just that she was posh and clever and the owner of a mean left hook. It's like she was from a different planet, that she had different thought processes from the rest of them. Not always in a good way, either. But sometimes, he supposed, in a good way.

Gene ran his fingers through his dark blonde hair. He'd finally made the decision to get her out of his office and out of his life and he still couldn't stop thinking about her. Par for the course, really. He was always thinking about her, even when he should be doing other things. Like eating and sleeping. Breathing. He thought about her when he woke, and when he knew she wasn't going to be in the office it cast a shadow over his whole day. Now all his days would be cast in shadow. He thought about her when she was sitting at her desk near his window and when she wasn't there he wondered where she was. He thought about her after he'd left her at the bar at the end of an evening and at the start while he was waiting for her to join him there. All the times in between.

This was getting him nowhere. Angrily, he pushed himself away from the desk and was shrugging into his jacket when the sudden silence from the outer office snagged his attention. He looked towards the door and caught his breath. Alex Drake was striding towards his office, looking neither left nor right, intent on capturing her quarry. She seemed unperturbed by the stunned faces of her former colleagues and their shock at her unexpected appearance in the Manc Lion's lair.

She crashed through his door without knocking but paused at the sight facing her. Some of her confidence faded as she took in Gene's features, composed in a rather less than welcoming expression. "I thought I made myself clear yesterday, Drake," he snarled. "You're no longer a part of my team. For someone with such an expensive education, you can act pretty bloody stupid on occasion. Now get out."

Alex didn't move. She'd been expecting his resistance but she wasn't going to be cowed by him now. She'd come to his office with a mission and wasn't prepared to leave without making progress. "It's lunchtime and you're just about to head out. Come and have lunch with me."

He almost laughed. He'd waited months for any sign of encouragement from her but nothing came. Now, just as he'd decided to move on, she was inviting him out for a meal. "You're not serious," he snapped. "Get out of my sight before I get Viv to carry you out." But he didn't move.

Alex smiled gently. "As tempting as is the prospect of getting a fireman's lift from Viv, I think I'll pass." Gene's face was like thunder. "C'mon Gene. We've argued before but we've always got over it." She walked towards him, peered up at him through her lashes. It was his undoing. "Come over to the flat." She could see him wavering. Played her trump card. "I've made steak."

He was helpless. He gave a short nod and followed her out of the office. He avoided the gaze of his colleagues and refused to question too closely his motives in accepting her offer. It was just the steak.

Alex smiled to herself. Her mission was underway. Now all she had to do was get Gene to confess his real feelings and she'd be a step closer to getting home.


	4. Chapter 4

Alex poured a couple of glasses of red and handed one to Gene. Waved a hand in the direction of the small table in the corner of the living room. Taking a seat, Gene surveyed the flat, noting that she'd made some effort to clear the place up, create a warm and welcoming atmosphere. It won't work, he thought to himself. She's not getting it all her own way this time.

The sound of Alex clattering plates and pans in the kitchen drew his attention. "Need any help in there?" he offered half-heartedly.

"No, it's all under control, be with you in a minute." Well, she hoped it was under control. Everything needed to be under control, up to and including the steak, the salad, Luigi's tiramisu, her job, her future, her journey home and last but not least Gene Hunt. She slid the steaks onto plates, dressed the salad, took a fortifying gulp of wine and joined Gene at the table with the meal.

The steaks looked good. Gene cut into his and raised an eyebrow as he saw how rare it was, pink juices oozing onto the plate; just how he liked it. He dug in. If this was to be their last meal together, he may as well enjoy it.

Alex looked on as Gene ate heartily. She was going to have to bite the bullet soon, get to the reason for her invitation, but for now she was just going to enjoy the company. It had been a long time since she'd cooked a meal for a man and she was surprised by how much fun it had been. It helped that Gene was devouring the food so enthusiastically. There was something strangely intimate about sharing a meal in her flat and it gave her an unexpected pleasure to watch Gene wolfing down the food she'd prepared. With an effort, she brought her attention back to the purpose behind the lunch invite.

"So, how are things back at the station?"

"Doubtless this will come as something of a surprise, but we're actually managing quite well without you, thank you for asking. I know it's only been a few hours, but already we're happily reverting to our old-fashioned, caveman ways."

"Strange, I never had Shaz down as the caveman type."

"Well, she's no Raquel Welch, but she's not all that bad."

"You're not missing me at all then?"

"You haven't really given me a chance to miss you, have you?"

"But you would, though? Miss me? If I didn't come back to work."

"What do you mean, if? What we discussed yesterday still stands, you know, Drake. I can't work with you when you disobey direct orders like that."

Alex paused, drawing her finger around the rim of her empty wine glass. She suddenly knew she needed to get back on the team, needed Gene on side again. She couldn't survive in this world without him. He was her protector and guide. She needed his direction to get back home. But how to win him round?

"Oh, Gene," she said sadly. "Really? I mean, I know we've had disagreements before, but we've always got over them. Are you sure you won't reconsider?" She looked up at him wide-eyed, aware that as she leaned towards him she revealed a tantalising glimpse of cleavage.

Gene swallowed as desire fought with suspicion. What the hell was she up to now? "You've never disobeyed a direct order before," he bit out. Wasn't going to be distracted by the creaminess of her flesh. No way.

"We can put this to one side, can't we? Forgive and forget?" Alex's voice was breathy and playful, a hopeful smile playing across her lips.

"Not this time, Bolly." Was she trying to kill him? Best get out of here now, before he did something he'd regret. "Thank you for lunch," he added quickly, pushing his chair back from the table. "Let me know if you need a reference."

"Gene, please don't go," pleaded Alex, alarmed. "I don't need a reference. The only thing I need right now is – is you." She reached out and placed her hand upon his arm, holding him still at the table.

A flame sparked briefly in Gene's eyes but was quickly snuffed out. "You don't need anyone, Alex," he growled. "You're the most self-sufficient woman I've ever met. You certainly don't need me. So whatever game it is you think you're playing, love, you'd better make sure we're both following the same set of rules."

"This isn't a game, Gene. I'm deadly serious. I need your help. I need to get back on the team." She stared up at him, huge hazel eyes begging for understanding, promising more in return.

For a moment, Gene was tempted. He'd dreamt about this, her capitulation to him, her surrender to his superior power. But something about it didn't feel right.

"Why is everything always about you, Bolly? What you want, what you need. You show scant regard for the consequences of your actions, for the trail of devastation you leave in your wake. I don't need that in my team. I don't need that in my life, full stop."

His face was set firm but his racing heart betrayed him. He was aware that he was closing the door on any hope of acting on his desire for this beautiful, maddening woman. She claimed to need him but he knew she'd drop him like a hot stone the moment he'd served his purpose. And he knew the longer she was around him, the harder it would be when she finally left.

He stood up from the table, grabbed his coat from the back of the sofa and strode across to the door. "Bye, Bolly. It's been – interesting. Let me know about that reference." He let himself out without waiting for her reply.

Left alone, Alex sagged dazedly onto the sofa. She felt blindly for the glass of wine she knew lurked near her feet and, finding it, downed it in one gulp. Lunch hadn't gone at all how she'd planned.

She'd assumed she'd be able to win him round; after all, she'd always managed it before. She'd thought a good meal, a glass of wine and a little gentle flirtation and she'd have him eating out of her hand. Apparently that had been more than a little naïve.

He'd gone now, for good this time. The future stretched bleakly ahead of her, long and lonely. Without him, she realised, she was less herself.

The minutes crept by but Alex didn't notice the time. She was consumed by an unexpected sense of loss. With uncomfortable honesty, she knew now that she really did need him. Already she was missing him. His brooding presence, his reassuring protectiveness, his powerful masculinity. It was no longer about using him to help reach home. It was about really living every moment while she was here. Living each moment with him.


	5. Chapter 5

What the hell did she take him for? Some kind of bloody puppet, unable to move unless she was pulling the strings? Or worse, some sleazy lowlife who couldn't see further than the end of his dick and could be seduced into stupidity by the promise of a good seeing to?

Gene paced back and forth across his spartan front room, whisky tumbler in hand, lit cigarette held loosely between two fingers, insides coiled like springs. After leaving Alex's flat he'd managed a couple of hours back at the office but his mind had been far from the job. He'd packed in early, knowing he wasn't going to achieve anything more that afternoon, and headed back to the supposed sanctuary of his own four walls. Only to find there was no respite here from his thoughts, swirling round his head on endless repeat, making him doubt himself and his actions like never before.

She'd claimed to want him. He'd been waiting so long to hear those words from her. But they rang hollow in his ears, blank of meaning, self-serving and empty. A picture of the future, of work, of life, without Alex flashed across his mind. He rubbed at his eyes as if to rub away the image, but the bleakness remained. He reminded himself that this was his choice but it didn't seem to ease the bitter taste in his mouth.

She didn't respect him in the office. She took the piss out of him in private. She ran rings around him, laughing while she was doing it, yet still he wanted her, longed for her. He despised himself for his weakness but couldn't seem to stop.

The sound of the doorbell pulled him from his thoughts. A welcome distraction. He set down the tumbler and stubbed out the cigarette before heading to the hall to answer the summons.

"Hello Gene." She smiled awkwardly. He was going to let her in, wasn't he? He moved aside slightly, waved his hand in the general direction of the front room. Talking this as the closest thing she'd get to an invitation, she walked carefully past him and towards the room he'd indicated. He closed the door behind her. She didn't see him run his hands through his hair and across his face, didn't hear him bang his head against the hallway wall before following her into his sitting room.

When he joined her she was standing uncomfortably in the centre of the room, fiddling with the strap of her bag and chewing on the corner of her lower lip. He picked up his tumbler and took a healthy slug of the scotch. Didn't offer her one.

"Nice place," she began, looking round at the room, avoiding his eyes. The silence lengthened and she stumbled in to fill the gap. "I, er, got your address off Shaz," she blurted out. "I hope you don't mind." She didn't think Gene needed to know that she'd had to plead with Shaz for twenty minutes before she'd handed over the details. She certainly didn't want him to know what she'd confessed to Shaz before the younger woman had given in.

"What are you doing here, Drake?" It wasn't a welcoming tone.

She swallowed. His eyes stared coldly at her, giving nothing away. It seemed he wasn't going to make this easy for her. She supposed that wasn't surprising. She'd spent the afternoon deep in thought, much of it painful. She'd gone over and over their conversation at lunch and knew that Gene had been right. She'd been acting selfishly, thinking purely and simply about her own needs and how she could use those around her to get out of this place and back to her daughter.

It no longer mattered whether Gene and the rest were real or merely figments of her insane imagination; her own sense of morality obliged her to treat them properly regardless. And with Gene, she acknowledged, she hadn't always done that. She needed to make amends. Needed to show him that she'd changed. Needed him, in every way. But to make any headway she'd need to make it over the mile-high barriers Gene seemed to have erected around himself since lunchtime.

She shrugged out of her jacket and threw it across the arm of the sofa. "Mind if I sit down?" Taking his silence as assent, she took a seat and turned hazel eyes upon him before eyeing the seat next to her in silent invitation. Shaking his head slightly, he perched on the edge of the sofa cushion, hunched forwards, legs splayed, elbows on his knees, hands hanging loosely down. A picture of isolation. Alex was at a loss as to how to reach him.

Through the thickening silence she could hear the tick of a clock on Gene's mantelpiece, taunting her with the passing of time. She leaned across to put her hand on Gene's arm but he flinched and pulled away.

Alex's confidence wavered. Surely she hadn't read this all wrong? He'd never made any attempt to hide his interest, had been frank about his attraction to her. Or so she thought. So why was he determined to make this so difficult? She knew, now, that she wanted him too. They could please each other, make each other happy, a small glimpse of colour in the black and white world. Why wouldn't he take her up on that?

"Gene." She tried to keep her longing out of her voice but wasn't sure she succeeded. "I'm sorry about earlier. I was – crass. And selfish. You were right."

"I usually am, Alex. But you very rarely give me the benefit of the doubt."

"It's complicated."

He let out a short laugh. "Is that the same 'complicated' as you and Evan White? The 'None of your business' type of complicated?"

"It could be your business, Gene," she said carefully. "If you want it to be."

"If this is about the transfer, you can save your breath. My decision stands. I want you out."

She drew in a deep breath. "It's got nothing to do with the transfer. It's about you. Well, you and me. Us."

He looked at her quizzically. "There's no 'us', Alex. Not once you've moved to your new team." He watched, fascinated, as she swallowed and drummed her fingers against the arm of the sofa. She was clearly chewing something over but he had no idea what. Suddenly she caught his gaze once more, fear and anticipation shining in her eyes. It shook him, nearly as much as her next words.

"There could be, you know. If you wanted to. An us."

They were still not touching. He stared hard at her, trying to discern her meaning, her feelings. He wanted to crush her to him, capture her lips, plunder her body, force her surrender. But a small part of him was holding back, uncertain whether he was reading more into her offer than she was meaning to give.

To Alex it felt like all the air had been sucked from the room. It was harder and harder to breathe. She tried to look away but the intensity of his gaze held her own. Waiting for his response, every second passing stretching her nerves like piano wires. Only realising now, perhaps too late, how important this really was. Trying desperately to conceal her need.

"An us, Alex?" His eyes bored into her, trying to see beneath her poised façade. All he could make out was calm indifference. None of her usual passion and fire. What did she want from him? He couldn't see any reflection of the desire he felt certain must be written across his own features.

In her sudden insecurity, she didn't want to frighten him with the depth of her feelings. Thought it best to try to lighten the mood. Forced a playful smile to her lips, reached across to touch his arm once more, relieved beyond words when he didn't pull away. "We could make each other happy, Gene," she murmured, leaning in closer. She ran her hand up his arm till it curled in his hair at the nape of his neck. Whispered close to his ear, "I'm sure I could make you _very_ happy."

Gene sat rooted to the spot. Alex mistook his confusion for indifference and wondered frantically whether her efforts would once again be in vain. Perhaps he was fearful that she would seek more from him than he was prepared to give. After all, perhaps she would. But right now, all she wanted was to feel him pressed against her, satisfying her, completing her. She needed to convince him that she wouldn't cling, wouldn't seek commitments he couldn't meet. She put her lips to his earlobe, traced its outline with her tongue. "Please, Gene," she whispered, striving to tease, not plead. "The two of us. No strings."

The feel of her mouth against his ear sent Gene's blood racing. It was so nearly everything he wanted. But that phrase, "no strings." It scratched across his heart. She was offering him her body but not her soul and it could never be enough. He made to push her away but the feel of her hand running through his hair was more than he could take. He'd been waiting so long. He couldn't resist her but it would be on his terms, not hers. He grabbed at her wrist and pulled her to him. Angling her head towards his, he lowered his lips, consuming her in a furious, earth shattering kiss. He'd take everything she'd give him but he'd never let her know what it cost.

xxxxx

**I'm going to be upping the rating to M for the next chapter – you can probably guess why. Hope that's not a problem for anyone.**

**Let me know what you think – I'm always open to constructive criticism.**


	6. Chapter 6

The moment his lips met hers, Alex prepared her surrender. She had been expecting his power but nothing had primed her for his absolute mastery of her senses. His lips pressing against hers, moving in time with her heartbeat, his tongue seeking access to her mouth, his teeth nipping at her lips, combined to leave her breathless and shaking in his arms. She moaned his name into his mouth and he pulled her, roughly, to standing.

"This way, Bolls," he muttered, taking her hand and leading her to the bottom of the stairs. They weren't going to ruck on the sofa like a pair of horny teenagers. He was going to do this right. "After you."

She looked at him sideways. His face was giving nothing away, unreadable as always, but she could see a pulse throbbing in his neck and could hear the uneven rate of his breathing. He may be trying to present the image of control but she understood how close he was to breaking. This was her chance to back out. To murmur apologies, claim misunderstanding and scurry out into the night. He was waiting. She turned and headed up the stairs, sensing him follow close behind.

His bedroom was simply furnished, clean white sheets covering a king-sized bed. A quick glance revealed no personal touches, no photos, pictures or mementoes of times past. He walked up behind her and lowered his lips to the base of her neck, licking, kissing and nibbling a path up to her ear. She could feel the heat emanating from his body and dropped her head back onto his shoulder, revelling in the sensations he was raising in her.

His hands splayed across her ribcage, drawing her back to him so that he could feel her body pressed against the length of his. She shuddered at the contact, feeling him hard against her, and tried to turn around to face him. His arms tightened around her, keeping her locked in position. "Not yet," he muttered gruffly, continuing his assault on her senses, moving his lips to nuzzle the skin at the top of one exposed shoulder.

He pulled at the fabric of her silky red top, freeing it from the waistband of her jeans. One hand slid underneath, onto her stomach, and her breath hitched as it swept a path upwards towards her breast.

"Beautiful skin, Bolly," he murmured against her neck. "Knew you'd have beautiful skin." His hand continued its journey, reaching up to cup her breast, pulling her bra down to release her nipple. He rubbed the pad of his thumb gently across the tip, sending darts of pleasure through Alex's body. She whimpered at his touch, wanting more, and in response Gene pinched at the sensitive peak, pulling it taut, rolling it between finger and thumb, all the time urged on by Alex's moans of desire.

Keeping one arm wrapped closely around her middle, pressing her tight against him, he moved his other down to undo the button of her jeans, sliding down the zip and slipping inside. He paused when his hand reached the top of her knickers, taking his time to caress the smooth skin where it met the silky fabric. Alex's whole body tensed in frustration, craving the completion of his touch. "Please, Gene," she breathed, raising her hand to cover his own and urge it downwards.

Gene smiled in satisfaction against her shoulder. "Impatient, eh? Don't worry. All in good time." He slid his hand down further, outside her knickers, cupping her but holding still. It was nowhere near enough for Alex, who writhed against his fingers, pleading without words for his touch.

"Tell me what you want, Alex," Gene growled in her ear. She reached up to pull his head round towards her, her eyes smoky with desire.

"Want to feel you against me," she whispered. "Want you inside me."

The corner of Gene's mouth raised in triumph. He wanted her desperately, the feel of her skin against his hands and lips was driving him crazy, was better than he'd ever imagined, but he needed to know she felt the same. He needed her to need him. He needed to be in control.

He pulled her closer to him, revelling in the feel of her arse rubbing against his straining cock. His fingers slipped under the elastic of her knickers, skimmed across her curls and sought entry within. She parted her legs slightly, encouraging his exploration, and gasped as he reached his target. He slid his fingers confidently across her clit, loving the feeling of her swelling against him. "Jesus, Alex," he ground out, turning his face into the curve of her neck. "Can't believe… so wet."

She couldn't think, couldn't move, was totally at his mercy. "Please, Gene," she sighed, rocking her hips against his fingers, moaning hungrily as he slid two fingers inside her, his thumb continuing to circle her clit. Her knees weakened and she leaned against him for strength. Gene's free hand swept up Alex's body and came to rest at her breast, feathering across her nipple with an agonisingly light touch. He could feel her weaken as his other hand pushed her towards her climax. He didn't want her to finish like this. Withdrew his hands and turned her round to face him.

"Tell me, Alex. Need to hear it."

Her breath was coming in shallow pants and she found herself pierced by his gaze. He reached up to trace the outline of her lips and she opened her mouth, stroked her tongue across his finger. The taste of herself drove her over the edge. Told him, clearly, "Want you, Gene. Now. Make me come."

It was nearly enough. He pulled off her top and unhooked her bra, pausing to swirl his tongue around each of her nipples as he freed her aching breasts. "Bloody gorgeous," he grunted into her shoulder as reached down to push off her jeans. "Amazing tits." She kicked off her shoes and jeans and edged towards the bed, pulling him with her.

He slid his fingers along her hips, pushing down her knickers until they fell to the floor, as she worked to free the buttons on his shirt. He helped as she fumbled with his belt then pulled in a deep breath as he felt her lower the zip on his trousers.

He gripped her chin and pulled her closer, crushing her lips against his. Her hands were between them, freeing his cock, working his heavy length. Her eyes widened in happy surprise. "Good God, Gene," she breathed as she stroked down his shaft, cupping his balls with one hand while gently circling the tip with the other. Gene sensed his control slipping and pulled away, pushing her back onto the bed and stepping out of his trousers and shorts before moving to lie over her.

From that moment all restraint was gone as they lay entwined, sounds of satisfaction and desire piercing the air, hands exploring and caressing, bodies seeking release. Gene's hands smoothed along Alex's torso, dipped between her legs then slid under her arse, opening her up to his gaze. He left a trail of hot kisses from her knee to the inside of her thigh. Alex moaned as his tongue reached her centre, whirling around her clit and along her folds, dipping inside her then returning to repeat the journey again and again. She was driven mindless by his actions, desperate for him to fill her, aching for the release of her orgasm.

"Now, Gene, please," she gasped, her hands twisting through his hair as her hips rocked beneath his tongue. He lifted his head to look at her, raking his gaze from her pussy, past her tits to the arch of her neck, her head flung back in abandon. She turned him on without even touching him. His cock throbbed hard and ready but he needed to be sure.

"Say it," he ground out, rubbing his thumb slowly around her swollen clit.

She was past caring what he thought of her, caught up in her desire and need, desperate for completion. "Fuck me, Gene," she panted, barely able to say the words. "Please," his fingers continuing their assault, "please, I'm begging you."

Finally it was enough and he nudged her legs further apart with his knee before sliding his cock deep into her, groaning into her hair as he felt her clasp around him. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as she lifted her hips to accommodate him. "Feels so good," he muttered, "fucking amazing. Knew it would be."

She cried out incoherently as he thrust deep into her, sucking at her shoulder, tweaking her nipple, watching her surrender. "So close, Gene. Fuck, yes…" She put her own hand over his at her tits, pushing him closer. "God, need to come, now, please..." He reached down between them and brushed a finger along her slick pussy, flicking at her clit. She collapsed beneath him in pleasure, calling his name as she came, clenching hot and tight around his cock. It tore away the last of his self control and he fell on her, thrusting deep, swallowing his own cries as his orgasm rocked through him.

Slowly her breathing returned to normal and he rolled away from her, missing her warmth. He wanted to pull her close to him but didn't know how she'd react. He wasn't even sure she'd want to stay the night. He was relieved, and surprised, when she reached over to plant a soft kiss on his shoulder, then pulled the covers around them and settled down to sleep.

He didn't know what time he woke, but the light in the room suggested it was still the middle of the night. He turned his head carefully and let go of the breath he was holding as he caught sight of her next to him, lying on her back, sleeping peacefully. It hadn't been another dream, then. He wanted to wake her for an encore but she looked more relaxed than he could remember seeing her and he couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead, he gave in to the urge that had been plaguing him and reached across to her, settling her gently within his arms, one of his legs draping securely across hers. She shifted slightly in her sleep but didn't waken and he was soon drifting off once again.

Light began to filter through the curtains when Alex woke, disoriented at the strange surroundings. She could feel Gene's body wrapped heavily around her and smiled at the memories of the previous night. She hadn't woken in such a good mood since arriving in 1981. Not even the prospect of having to find a new post was going to dampen her spirits. She didn't know why, or how, she'd come to be here, but she was going to make the best of it and working things out with Gene would go a long way towards that. She lay for a moment, planning her day, before easing gently out of the bed, trying to avoid disturbing Gene. He looked rough and tousled and she nearly gave in to her desire to kiss him awake. "Not fair, Alex," she told herself sternly. "He worked pretty hard last night. Needs his sleep."

She picked her clothes up quietly and slipped them on before rooting in her bag for a pen and paper. Wrote a short note and left it on her pillow. Kissed him on the cheek. Closed the door carefully behind her.

Not carefully enough, though, as the sound disturbed Gene through his sleep. He reached out for her, arm curling futilely where her body should have been. A scrap of paper was dislodged and fell unnoticed to the floor.

xxxxxx

Gene strode angrily along the corridor, heading for the solitude of his office. It was early and the place was deserted, but he hadn't wanted to hang around at home. He still couldn't believe he'd woken up alone. She'd taken what she wanted and just buggered off and left him, not even a goodbye. He didn't want it to hurt but it did. Perhaps a one-off shag would be for the best. He'd always want more, of course, but at least he'd have the memory. Actually no, bollocks. Now he knew exactly what he was missing it would be harder than before.

Bloody woman, he thought, pushing open the door. Selfish, insufferable, and – Jesus Christ, no way – in the flaming squad room.

Alex was standing over her old desk, riffling through some paperwork. She straightened as she heard him arrive, was about to greet him with a smile when the thunderous expression on his face pulled her up short.

"What the hell do you think you're doing here, Drake?" he barked at her.

"Erm…" Confusion flashed briefly across her face, but he wasn't in the mood to listen to her excuses.

"I told you last night. You're off the team. Nothing's changed that."

"Well, no –"

"What, did you think that you could just waltz back in here and it would all be okay again? That you let me get into your knickers and so I'd give you your old job back in return? Never going to happen, lady." He was furious, angry with her for trying it on, livid with himself for letting her. She must think he was a complete bloody mug. He hated the idea that she might be right.

"Hang on a minute," she shouted back, angry herself now at his assumptions and hurt that last night could mean so little to him, but he didn't give her the chance to finish.

"Get out, Drake, and don't come back." She stared at him, unmoving. "Now!"

"Fine." She lifted her chin and stalked past him, not looking back as she pushed through the doors.

xxxxx

Gene left the office late that evening and headed straight for home, not in the mood to join the team for a drink. He headed for the bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt and wondering whether to order in a Chinese or an Indian. He was kicking off his shoes by the window when he saw it. A small piece of paper, lying between the bed and a chest of drawers. Picking it up, he read:

"_Want to collect the last of my stuff from the office before the rabble get in.  
Didn't want to wake you, although supremely tempted.  
See you in Luigi's later? A"_

He rubbed his thumb across the words. Shit. He'd buggered it up again.


	7. Chapter 7

Alex poured herself a cup of coffee from the cafetiere that sat on the kitchen work surface. In her old life, she'd scored a daily caffeine fix from one of the many chains that had sprouted across London in nineties. Her attempts to get a good cup of coffee in 1981 had been fruitless and in the end she'd given up and invested in a bean grinder to make her own. She thought back wistfully to the oversized armchairs, vertiginous stools and steel countertops in the coffee shop near her old office. Funny how you don't miss something till it's gone.

The caffeine wasn't helping her mood. Inside she was boiling, still livid about her earlier argument with Gene. How dare he be so rude to her! It would have been bad enough under normal circumstances, but now – after all that had happened – would it have killed him to have treated her a bit more sensitively? Bastard.

It didn't help that it had been so bloody good. Who'da thought? She'd long known there was more to Gene than the hulking, brutish copper that most of the world saw. Still waters and all that. But she'd still been surprised – very happily – by his skill in drawing such wonderful sensations from her body.

She'd given herself to him completely, been so captivated by him that she'd have done whatever he asked. So when he demanded that she beg, she hadn't even paused. It wasn't until later that she'd realised he'd given nothing in return. He'd witnessed her total capitulation while ensuring she breached none of his own defences. Did he get off on making her feel humiliation? Did he enjoy seeing her squirm? It hurt. No more thinking about it.

She ground her teeth in frustration. He'd acted like such a bloody boor. She'd never intended to take advantage of their intimacy – if she could call it that – to get her old job back. She'd only been fetching her stuff, like she'd said in her note. Bastard. So she'd spent the day reviewing her transfer options. The completed form was lying on the coffee table, requiring only the signature of one DCI Gene Hunt. She'd take it over the road tomorrow. Leave it with Viv. When the Quattro wasn't parked outside.

Enough with the coffee. Not doing the trick. Where's that bottle of red?

She was just polishing off the second glass when she heard the knock on the door. Of course it was Gene. He wouldn't give her a moment's peace. He's got her at a disadvantage; for a change, he was stone cold sober. She raised her eyebrows but waved him through.

Gene was finding it hard to meet her eyes. He stood uncomfortably in front of her coffee table, hands in trouser pockets, reaching for the right words. He'd put her note carefully in his breast pocket and driven straight to her flat but now he was here he was struggling to know what to say. He didn't even know what he hoped to achieve; just knew he couldn't leave things on such an angry note. Especially now he knew he'd made such a stupid mistake.

Alex stared across at him, the picture of cool. His eyes scanned the room, searching for inspiration, and he caught sight of the paperwork lying on the coffee table. Recognised the logo with a jolt. Sat down on Alex's sofa and began to leaf through it. "Help yourself," she muttered sarcastically.

She stared down at him from the doorway, watching as he read through at her transfer application. He looked ruffled, distracted, sexier than she could ever remember. How could she still want him? Her mind flashed back to their angry exchange that morning. Nope. Even remembering what an absolute git he'd been, she still wanted to drag him by the lapels into the bedroom. It made her feel a little hollow inside.

Gene coughed. "You're going, then?" She sat down next to him with a sigh.

"You've made it quite clear, on more than one occasion, that you want me out. Frankly, after last night and this morning, I can't wait to leave." She wondered if she sounded believable.

Hurt flashed briefly across Gene's eyes but he hid the emotion before she had the chance to place it. "Probably for the best," he mumbled. After all, it was proving hard enough to do this once, let alone go through the same painful exercise every day at the office.

"You know, Gene," she snapped, "I'd have been happy with a one night stand." She thought her lies were getting better with practice. "You didn't have to get all commitment-phobic on me this morning," she went on. "I wasn't about to stick a 'sold' sticker on you."

"You couldn't find one big enough." God, had they even been in the same room? For him it had been wonderful, glorious, triumphant. Life changing, if she'd let him. For her, apparently, it had been so bad she didn't ever want to do it again. He took a deep breath. Get this over with, Hunt. Say what you've got to say and get out.

"Got your note."

She looked at him quizzically.

"The one you left this morning. Got it tonight. Must've fallen on the floor. Didn't see it."

"Oh."

"Yeah. So. Erm. Sorry. Shouldn't have shouted at you this morning. Thought – well, you know. Thought you'd just gone. Was wrong." Fuck, she looked amazing. He wanted her so much. Even more than before. Had to get out of there.

Alex looked on uncertainly as he put his hands on his thighs, leaned forward, about to leave. She didn't want him to go. Wanted to kiss every inch of him. Failing that, at least get back to where they were before. His apology had warmed and fortified her. She asked quickly, "Have you eaten?" Seeing the surprise dart across his features, she hurried on, "I could get something from Luigi's. Bring it up. Um. Shame to part on bad terms. I'll be gone soon enough."

Alex turned to face him and caught the uncertainty in his expression. He was going to say no. Great. One final indignity to complete this sorry chapter of her 1981 world.

In fact, it was the look in her eyes that did for him. He knew he should be sensible, sign her form and make his excuses, but when she looked at him, turned those hazel eyes upon him, he was lost. She'd be out of his life tonight, whatever happened. A few more hours with her? He couldn't say no.

Gene paced around her small sitting room while Alex disappeared downstairs for provisions. He resisted the urge to peer into her bedroom, settling for running his fingers across the white leather of the jacket she'd flung carelessly on the back of a chair. He jumped away guiltily when she returned but she was too busy balancing cartons and bottles to notice.

"I'll get this stuff onto plates. Make yourself comfortable."

He took possession of the fresh bottle of wine and opened it while she served up the food. They ate quietly, both keen to keep the conversation to neutral topics. Alex reminisced about cases they'd worked on together. Gene quizzed her about her transfer choices. To her surprise, she found herself relaxing, enjoying his company now that the end between them was near. Almost like their dinner the night before her parents had been killed. She'd thought then she'd be leaving him but had been wrong. She wouldn't be wrong this time though.

Gene pushed his empty plate away and leaned back in his chair. Food was all eaten, wine finished, coffee drunk. No more excuses to keep him here. A dignified retreat was called for; he hoped he'd be able to manage it.

"So, er – where's those forms then? You'll be wanting my autograph."

He wandered across to the coffee table, pulled out a pen and signed where she pointed, picking up the completed paperwork. "I'll put them in the internal post for you tomorrow then, shall I?" He tucked the forms into his breast pocket then shrugged into his overcoat, walking slowly towards the door.

Alex swallowed and forced a smile to her lips. "Bye then." She stood awkwardly in front of him, putting out a hand for him to shake. He took it carefully in his own, sending a shiver along her arm that finished somewhere near her heart.

"Bye, Bolly." They stood close, not moving, neither one keen to pull away. "It's been… well. Interesting." Eyebrows raised in wry acknowledgement of the understatement.

"Certainly has," she agreed with a brightness she didn't feel. He pulled her ever-so-slightly closer, leant down and brushed a gentle kiss across her cheek. Closing her eyes to savour the moment, Alex instinctively angled her body towards his, pulling him into a clumsy hug. "Bye," she said again, one hand still encased in his, squashed between their bodies, the other wrapped tight around his shoulder.

Gene couldn't move, his face pressed into the curve of her neck, his body on fire at the nearness of hers. It took all his self control to draw back from her embrace. He mumbled, "See you around," and turned to walk out of the door and out of her life.

She surprised herself as much as him when she put out a hand to prevent him leaving. He turned back slowly. For once, she didn't have words. Instead, she took his face in her hands and pulled him to her, kissing him, cautiously at first, as if afraid of rejection, but then with growing intensity, until there was no doubt about her desire.

His tongue slid against hers, teeth nipping her lips, mouth capturing her small gasps and moans. Her hands slipped to the back of his head, entangled in his hair, pulling him ever closer. He gripped her waist, urging her body to his, till he could feel every soft curve against him. With an effort, he wrenched his mouth from hers, framing the question. "Thought you only wanted a one night stand, Bolly?"

"Two," she panted, her mouth seeking his once more. "Could manage two, I think."

It would have to do for now. He pushed her against the wall in the hallway, trailing his lips from the corner of her mouth to her throat, nibbling at her neck, sucking gently on her earlobe. He pulled her top from her jeans and slid his hands beneath, smiling as she sucked in a breath. She helped slip the top over her head, dropping it behind him, gasping as he kissed the curve of her breast.

Her bra was next to the floor and Gene groaned with pleasure as he stared at her tits. He brushed the pads of his thumbs across her nipples, fascinated by how they tautened under his touch, triumphant at the passion he could see flaming in Alex's eyes. He replaced a thumb with his lips, drawing the tight peak into his mouth, sucking with an almost ferocious intensity. He felt her knees buckle under his onslaught and gripped her tighter, shaping her to him.

Alex could feel him hard against her and she ground her hips into him, trying to ease the ache growing within her. Gene muffled a curse against her breasts and held her still. He desperately needed to maintain control. Alex's frustration growing, she pushed away from the wall, leading him by the hand to the bedroom, pausing for heated kisses, and for zips and buttons, shedding garments along the way.

By the time they collapsed together on the bed they were naked, hands and mouths seeking every inch of exposed flesh, driving each other on. Gene rolled Alex onto her back, his tongue swirling around her nipple, fingers stroking between her legs. She gasped as he slid a finger into her, his thumb gently circling her clit. He began to ease his fingers slowly in and out, Alex's knees parting wider to accommodate the thrusts.

"God, Gene, please," Alex moaned, running her hands across his shoulders, pulling him closer. He slid from her grasp, planting hot, wet kisses across her rib cage, in the dip of her waist, the inside of her thigh. God, even the smell of her turned him on. He breathed her in, her scent filling him, urging him on for more. She raised a knee and he caught her leg, lifting it over his shoulder, opening her fully to him. She was slick with desire and he lapped her up, his tongue exploring her, dipping in and out, his lips sucking on her clit. "Gene," she gasped, "can't…" Slipping two fingers inside, licking and nuzzling her clit, she bucked beneath him, unable to hold on. She cried his name as she came, convulsing around his fingers, throbbing against his tongue.

He held her as she came down, relaxing slowly into his embrace. She sent a satisfied grin in his direction, trailing a hand across his chest, flicking at his nipple with a fingernail. His breathing quickened as she swept her hand downwards, leaning over to brush her lips against his chest, taking hold of his aching cock.

He groaned as she held him, stroking slowly, encircling him, palming his balls, running a finger around the head. "Fucking hell, Alex," he groaned, lost in the sensation, drowning in the feeling of her hand on his body. He only became aware of what else she was planning as she inched down his body, her tongue at his breastbone, darting at his bellybutton, heading even lower.

Pulling away from her, he tried to roll her back onto her back, countering her attempts to move on top of him. She resisted, wanting to reach her goal, desperate to taste him. A battle raged within Gene as desire fought with his instinctive need for control. She felt amazing, he was so fucking horny, wanted her so much he could barely think. But he couldn't afford to lower his guard, no matter how great the temptation. He gathered his resolve and flipped her onto her back, ignoring her protests, determined to drive any discontented thoughts from her mind.

Nibbling, teasing and caressing her body into submission, he smiled in satisfaction as she moaned and writhed beneath him. He covered every inch of her in kisses, branding her, marking her as his. He revelled in her slickness, knowing that he'd brought her to the brink. Nudging her knees further apart, he guided himself into her, smiling as she gasped at his entry. He knew he fit her perfectly, and as she tightened around him he felt the last of his control slipping away.

Thrusting slowly, instinct taking over, he groaned her name into her shoulder, no longer able to disguise his need.

"Yes, Gene, God, yes," she breathed, raising her hips in time with his thrusts, taking him deeper, angling her body to increase the friction on her clit. "Gonna… now," she cried, tightening around him, clinging onto his shoulders, pushing ever closer against him.

Her climax rocked him, sent him spiralling over the edge, and he spilled into her, her name on his lips, visions of her burnt into his brain, the scent and feel of her crowding his senses, till there was only the two of them, there in that moment, collapsed and sated in each other's arms.


	8. Chapter 8

A muffled curse woke Alex from the comfort of sleep. She opened her eyes slowly, squinting as she got used to the early morning sunlight filtering into the room. Lying on her side, she could see an expanse of empty mattress where Gene had been, could hear him stumbling around in the bathroom trying and failing to get ready quietly. She smiled as she recalled how the evening had ended, she and Gene scaling the heights together, he murmuring sounds of comfort and reassurance as she drifted off to sleep, holding her close when she stirred during the night.

The sounds from the bathroom fell quiet and Alex heard Gene padding towards the bedroom. He opened the door carefully, trying not to disturb Alex as she lay in the bed. He dropped his towel over the back of a chair before pulling on shorts, trousers and shirt, fiddling with buttons, stuffing his tie into a pocket. Alex stared covertly as Gene searched for his socks, her breathing quickening as he stopped to tuck his shirt into his trousers, shoulders back, stretched to his full height, looking powerful and masculine and totally out of place in her bedroom.

After finding a stray sock that had fallen down the side of a wardrobe, Gene finally located all his articles of clothing and paused to look across at Alex. She looked beautiful, naked beneath the sheets, the curves of her body clearly outlined. He swallowed, undecided. Didn't want to leave without saying goodbye – God knew he hadn't forgotten how heart-scarring that could be – but he didn't want to wake her and risk facing her temper, or worse, her indifference.

Gene paced slowly across to the bed and was about to trace a finger along Alex's bare shoulder when he noticed her eyes were half-open. Wrongfooted, he paused with his hand in mid-air. Was unreasonably relieved as she smiled a welcome up at him.

"Morning, sleepy knickers."

"Time s'it?"

"Still early." He allowed himself to go through with his earlier impulse, running his finger from the base of her ear to the tip of her shoulder. She rewarded him with a sleepy grin as she turned her head to rub her cheek against his hand.

"You're going?" She loved the feel of his hands on her skin. Wanted to feel it again.

"Got some town hall bigwigs coming over for a briefing. Need to at least pretend I've done some preparation."

She pouted up at him. "Town hall bigwigs, eh? Alderman Important must be briefed." She eased herself up onto her elbows, the sheet slipping slightly down her body, revealing the curves at the top of her breasts. Gene stared, looked away and then stared again. With an effort, and being careful not to touch her, he replaced the sheet under her chin.

"More like Councillor Self Important and his sidekick Director Dulldulldull. But they've got the ear of the Super. And control of some purse strings. So I've got to go."

"Really?" She slipped a hand out from under the sheet and curled it softly around his thigh. Slipped it upwards and inwards, until it was captured in Gene's.

"Don't, Bolly," he ground out. He really did have to go. But the way she was looking at him; he didn't think he'd ever had a woman stare at him like that, hunger for him written so plainly across her face.

"We can be quick, Gene," she told him softly. "I bet it would still be good."

He felt his pulse quicken as he stared down at her. She looked utterly fuckable, hair mussed around her shoulders, face bare of make-up, lips parted, tongue just visible as it poked out between them. Wasn't fair that she had such powerful weapons. Resistance was apparently futile.

He leaned down to her took her face in his hands and pressed his lips against hers in a fast, hot kiss. "It'll have to be quick, then, Alex," he muttered, reaching down to unbutton his shirt.

"So much for the silver tongue," she replied with a smile as she deftly helped him out of his trousers.

"You weren't complaining about my tongue last night," he reminded her, pushing off the last of his clothes and joining her quickly on the bed, kissing whatever parts of her body he could expose.

"Mmm, no. Was good." She pulled him closer, hooked her arm around his neck and lifted her mouth to his. Kissing him urgently, beginning the race to the summit.

Desire flooded through him at the feel of her tongue in his mouth. "Alex, want you," he breathed. He dropped his head to her breasts, sucked on her nipples, one and then the other, loving how they hardened beneath his tongue. He pinched at them, swept his thumbs over the tips, nipped gently and then harder as she moaned her pleasure. "So beautiful," he muttered.

She dug her nails into his shoulder as his hand traced a path across her belly and down between her legs, parting them wider. "God, Gene, yes," she mumbled as she wrapped one leg close around his. She burned with exquisite pleasure as he slipped a finger inside, his tongue echoing the movement as it thrust fiercely into her mouth.

Stroking the folds between her legs, strumming across her clit, he marvelled at her slickness and heat. "Need to fuck you, Alex," he ground out, biting on her shoulder, pulling her closer to him. "Need it now." She gasped her agreement and he thrust into her, filling her completely, overcome by the feel of her tight around him.

Alex groaned against Gene's chest as he pushed hard into her. She raised her hips up to his, matching him thrust for thrust, murmuring soft words of desire and encouragement in his ear. He saw the flush of passion across her skin, looked down the length of their bodies and saw himself buried within her. It sent him over the edge.

"Am close, Alex," he grunted, staring down at her, drinking her in. He reached between them, flicked his finger across her clit and watched as Alex moaned in pleasure, her arms flung above her head, hands pushing against the headboard, her body at the perfect angle to receive his.

He stroked her and thrust into her until she cried out his name, tensing around him, her whole body pulsing as wave after wave crashed over her. Gene's control shattered and he flooded into her, groaning with each thrust, until he collapsed on top of her, spent and exhausted.

He rolled onto his side, pulling her with him, planting soft kisses on her shoulder, absently twirling a ringlet of hair around his finger. She smiled lazily across at him, her heartbeat gradually returning to normal, her body still trembling as aftershocks ran through her.

Gene finally gathered enough strength to return her smile. "You were right," he admitted gruffly. "Was still good." He shifted slightly, intending to pull her into a hug, but was distracted by the figures blinking out from her alarm clock. "Flaming hell. Gonna be late." He rolled quickly away and out of bed, pulled on his shirt, hopped into shorts, trousers and socks, stuffed his feet into boots. Alex blinked up at him, watching silently as he patted his pockets, checking for the presence of wallet, keys, fag packet and hip flask. He had a hand on the door when he heard Alex clearing her throat. Realised even through his distraction that leaving without saying goodbye would probably not aid his chances of getting an encore. He walked back to her, touched a finger to the tip of her nose and gave her a wry smile.

"You're off, then?" she said with just a touch of sarcasm.

He had the grace to look sheepish. "Yeah. Sorry. Really have got to get over the road." He waited a beat and Alex was sure he was going to say more. But he remained tight-lipped and eventually Alex touched his hand and wished him goodbye. He nodded down at her then turned on his heel, hitching his overcoat across his shoulders as he left.

xxxxx

The outside door clicked closed and Gene's familiar footsteps hurried off in the direction of the station. Alex flopped onto her back, alone in her bed once more, wondering why she was wishing he'd been able to stay longer.

What on earth was going on here? Gene was a thug of a man, a brute who used his power to bully his way through life, always getting what he wanted, uncaring who he hurt along the way. Wasn't he? Certainly, she'd barely been able to tolerate him when she'd first arrived. He'd seemed so uncaring of procedures, protocols, all the normal rules of policing. The rules were there to protect the weak and vulnerable, so by ignoring them when the mood took him, Gene was at risk of harming the very people he was supposed to protect.

And yet, Alex knew that Gene took his responsibility to policing his patch extremely seriously. His rule-bending was always motivated by the need to get the right result. And Alex would be the first to admit that sometimes following the rules actually led to the wrong result.

So he wasn't the thug she'd initially framed him as. He was far more complicated, more interesting than that one-dimensional caricature. Despite herself, she'd begun to enjoy his company, to actually seek it out on occasion. And Christ, the sex was amazing. How did he know exactly how to touch her, exactly what to say, so that she was completely enthralled by him? They were brilliant together, getting better each time. Just thinking about it was making her horny again, which was frankly ridiculous, given that the man had barely been gone for ten minutes. Pull yourself together, Drake, she told herself sternly. You're a grown woman, not a frustrated bloody teenager.

And therein lay the problem. She was a grown woman with a 12-year-old daughter. She should be concentrating on Molly, on getting back home to Molly, not being distracted by a tall, angry Mancunian with a chip on his shoulder the size of Gibraltar. Guilt sliced through her as the thought that her fling – if that's what it was – with Gene might somehow stop her finding the right path home. What if the price for indulging her 1981 desires was that she could never get back to 2008?

Lapsed Catholic guilt. She had to laugh, really. Even in this fantasy world, where her actions couldn't possibly have any real consequences, she still insisted on torturing herself with dire threats for succumbing to her attraction to Gene. Heaven's sake, Alex. Stop analysing everything so much. There was no real reason to think that a fling with Gene could harm her ability to get back to Molly. She'd just need to stay alert, not get sucked into anything she couldn't get out of. In the meantime, she could no longer deny her desire for her erstwhile boss. As long as she was in this world, she wanted to be in it with Gene. The only question was, what did he want?

xxxxx

A couple of hours later, across at the station, Gene was wondering the same thing. He'd changed into the spare clothes he kept at the office and managed to get rid of the local government bureaucrats without making a complete pillock of himself, despite his marked lack of preparation. Or interest. And now, with no urgent case to occupy his mind, he found himself thinking once again about his problematic DI.

He'd wanted her for so long. Fantasised about her, about shagging her, making her his. In his dreams she'd called out his name but it had never sounded as good as it did in reality.

He'd been kidding himself. He'd thought that if he could have her once it would be enough. He'd get it out of his system and be able to move on. Well, he'd had her now but she was still stuck firmly in his system. Like some greedy schoolboy, the more he had, the more he wanted. But she'd offered him nothing in return. No mumbled promises, no coy requests for reassurance or repeat performances. She wasn't like any of the other women he'd known. Shit. He was only a bloke, for Chrissakes. How the hell was he supposed to know what the bloody woman wanted?

Loud rumbling from his stomach reminded him that he'd had to skip breakfast. He headed out of the office, hoping to grab a bacon butty from the greasy spoon around the corner. As he nodded to Viv on the front desk he spotted the internal post tray and remembered Alex's transfer request forms. He reached into his breast pocket to retrieve them but instead pulled out her note from the previous morning. He stared at it for a moment before replacing it carefully in his pocket. Looked again at the internal post tray before walking straight past it, out of the station and into the bright sunlight.


	9. Chapter 9

The hands on the clock in Alex's kitchen finally clicked round to 5.30. Alex had spent the time since Gene had left pottering around her flat, getting in a few groceries, putting on a load of laundry. Trying not to think about Gene. She certainly hadn't expected him to call, so she couldn't be disappointed when he hadn't. It was Friday night and for the first time since arriving in 1981 Alex was worried about filling the time. A growing sense of loneliness threatened to overtake her as she thought back to her old life, Molly and Evan, her small circle of friends, her colleagues at work.

The weekend loomed ahead, empty of commitments, with nothing but Luigi and the TV for company. 5.31. To hell with it. She picked up her jacket and headed downstairs. It was nothing to do with Gene; she just fancied a drink with the team. She hadn't seen them since Gene had given her her marching orders. No need at all for her heart to be racing as she pushed open the door.

Turned out there was really no need as a quick scan of the room showed no sign of Gene. Not to worry; after all, it wasn't him she was there to see. She took a seat at the bar and ordered a bottle of red.

"All right, Ma'am?" Alex turned and found herself genuinely pleased to see Shaz taking the stool next to her.

"I'm very well, thank you Shaz. It's good to see you. I feel like I've been out of the loop for months, not days."

"It's been dead weird in the office without you. They're acting like boys who've been let out into the playground without the headmistress to watch over them."

Alex smiled. She could just imagine Ray leading Chris and the others in all sorts of juvenile nonsense now that she wasn't around to keep an eye on them. "They must be loving their new freedom."

"They are, Ma'am," agreed Shaz. "It's not the same, though. I miss having another girl – woman, I mean – around."

"There is strength in numbers," Alex conceded with a wry smile. "But it was probably for the best. You know the Guv and I always struggled to manage a civil relationship at work. We must have driven you lot up the wall with our bickering."

Shaz sent Alex a sideways glance. "That's rubbish, Ma'am, if you don't mind my saying so. Everyone knows you and the Guv work well together, underneath it all. You sort of fire off each other, challenge each other. It gets better results."

"Maybe. But it can be awfully tiring, you know. It feels like such hard work, all that conflict and tension."

Shaz's eyes twinkled with mischief. "I thought you and the Guv enjoyed all that conflict and tension. He certainly seemed to light up when he was fighting with you."

"I don't know what you mean," Alex replied innocently. Shaz's face turned suddenly serious.

"I know it's only been a couple of days, but he misses you, you know." Alex shot her a sceptical look. "No, really," Shaz insisted. "He keeps looking across at your desk, when he thinks no one's looking. And when he's briefing the team, he's always mentioning your name. You know, 'Do it like Drake would do,' that sort of thing."

Alex smiled to herself, more pleased than she cared to admit. She aimed for casual as she asked Shaz, "Where is he, anyway?"

"Where's who?"

"Gene," Alex started in surprise. "Didn't see you come in."

Shaz looked from Alex to Gene then back again. "I'll be off, then," she murmured, slinking back to the table with Chris and Ray.

Gene turned his head towards Alex. She was wearing a ruffled, elasticated top in scarlet. It fell off both her shoulders, revealing the straps of the black bra she wore beneath. With the tangle of curls and large hoops in her ears, she gave off the image of a wayward Romany. He wanted to tame her. Familiar sparks of desire stirred in his gut.

"So," he began, unsure now how to navigate the new relationship between them.

"So."

"Didn't expect to see you here."

"I live upstairs, Gene."

"Right. Course." Truth was, he'd hoped she'd be there, she was the reason he'd come over early rather than staying behind to finish up the paperwork that was clogging up his desk.

"Busy day?"

"The usual. Blaggers blagging, robbers robbing, tarts tarting. Ray and Chris continue their competition to find who can make the most idiotic contribution in the interview room. At the moment, Chris is winning by asking Harry "Hard Hat" McMillen whether he wanted a French fancy or a gingernut with his tea."

"Nothing changes, then," Alex noted with a wry smile. Gene leaned across her to pick up an ashtray from the bar, accidentally nudging his arm against hers as he did so. She instinctively flinched from him, wary of giving herself away. He looked gorgeous in his grey suit and black shirt and she was having trouble keeping her hands off him. He misinterpreted her action, believing she was giving him yet another brush off. Thought to himself, fuck it.

"Right then," he announced with finality, picking up his glass and fag packet, turning on his stool to head back to the booth. If he'd been a bit quicker, he might have missed the look of disappointment that flashed briefly across Alex's face. Changing his mind, he clumsily tried to disguise his earlier movements as he settled back down on the stool.

Alex's eye was caught by Chris, who was looking rather worriedly at a leather-bound menu. She'd heard Shaz tell him to choose the food and wine and was amused by the panic now washing across his features. She pointed it out to Gene, wondering what disastrous choices Chris would make. Gene looked at her thoughtfully.

"You're a posh bird, Bolls. Would you expect treatment like that?"

Alex laughed. "No, Gene. I don't need a man to choose my meals for me, thanks all the same."

"Seems to me like you don't need a man at all."

"Oh, I don't know." She looked at him from the corner of her eye. "They have their uses."

"Is that right?"

Alex's only answer was a small smile. Gene leaned towards her and raised his eyes to hers. "Alex –"

"Guv! Guv!" Chris whispered urgently in Gene's ear. "Need your help. Should I go for a medium German or a dry Italian?"

Gene shot him a thunderous look , partly in genuine irritation at the interruption, partly to cover his confusion over the question. Alex confidently advised the Italian and shooed him on his way.

The moment lost, Alex picked up her bag and slipped off the stool. "I've had enough of this lot, I think. I'm heading home." He tried to disguise his disappointment but wasn't sure he'd been successful. "So," she went on. "Guess you'll be wanting to stay and have a drink with the rabble."

"Er, yeah." He knew he sounded distinctly unenthusiastic but couldn't summon the energy to pretend. "Friday night tradition. Good for morale."

"Not doing anything for my morale." She put a hand on his shoulder and angled her mouth to his ear. "Door'll be open for an hour or so. Might see you later." He blinked in surprise as she turned and walked away, smiling to herself as she left.

xxxxx

Fifty-nine minutes after she left, Gene cautiously pushed open the door to Alex's flat. She called to him from the kitchen, inviting him to make himself at home. She sounded friendly, calm – happy even. He felt out of his depth and confused. Something else that hadn't changed.

He draped his jacket over the back of a chair and loosened his tie. Wandering into the kitchen he was greeted by the not unpleasant sight of Alex bending over to remove something – chicken, maybe? – from the oven. There was a bowl of salad on the worktop. Seemed to be enough for two.

"Hungry?" she asked, secretly relieved that he'd taken her up on her offer. She'd spent the last hour wondering whether he would.

"I could eat." He remained standing, unnerved by this unexpected display of domesticity. Sensing his discomfort, Alex asked him to make himself useful by opening the wine. He poured two glasses, watching as she dished up, willing himself to relax and loosen up.

As they ate, the wine and conversation eased the tension between them and Gene was surprised to find he was actually enjoying himself. He made Alex laugh by telling her how Ray had been trying his luck downstairs with a girl dressed in lycra whose final words to him had been 'piss off granddad'. "Poor Ray," sympathised Alex with a smile. "Girls in London a bit harder to please than those in Manchester, then?"

"Can't speak for all London girls. One in particular has proved very hard to please."

"Depends whether she was worth the effort."

Gene looked across at Alex thoughtfully. "S'getting to be a bit of a habit, you know."

"What is?"

"This. You and me."

Setting her chin on her hands, Alex considered for a moment. "Don't have any good habits. Don't go to the gym or eat my five-a-day. Only bad ones, like drinking too much dodgy wine or arguing with my boss." She leaned fractionally closer. "Ex-boss."

He ran a finger gently across the back of her hand. "You're completely unfathomable."

"Hope so." Without giving herself time for second thoughts, she reached across and pressed a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth. He turned his head into the kiss, sliding his tongue into her mouth, tasting her sweetness, loving her warmth. His kiss left her breathless, her heart pounding, a hot tightness building at her core. She reached up behind his neck, tangling his hair in her hands, pulling him back to her. Nibbling on his lower lip, she sighed as his hand swept across her shoulder, down her back, trying to bring her closer to him.

Frustrated by the barrier of the table, Alex rose from her seat to join him, moving to stand between his parted legs. She took his head in her hands and lowered her own to meet it, dropping a long, sensual kiss on his mouth, exploring with her tongue, whimpering as he gently caressed her earlobe, running his finger along her neck and collar bone.

Easing away, she took his hand and pulled him to his feet, wrapping her arms around him, pressing her body close against his. He murmured his approval as he slid his hands down her back, cupping her arse, pulling her hips up to his so she was left in no doubt about the strength of his desire. He trailed his lips along the column of her neck, nuzzling into her shoulder, lower, brushing across the top of her breasts. She clasped his head to her body, sighing in pleasure as he nipped at her curves. He brought a hand up beneath her top, brushing a thumb across the sheer black fabric of her bra, groaning as her nipple tightened beneath his touch.

"You feel so good, Gene," Alex breathed, pulling his shirt from his trousers and running her hands up and down the length of his spine. "Love how you touch me."

"You're good to touch," he replied softly as undid the button of her jeans, slipping his hands under the waistband and around to the small of her back, then down across the cheeks of her arse.

"Mmmm," she agreed, "likewise." She pulled his tie from its knot and dropped it behind him, returning to undo the buttons on his shirt, smoothing her hands across his chest as she went. She pushed his shirt back from his shoulders, allowing it to fall on top of his tie, and leaned in to him, nuzzling into the fine hairs sprinkling his chest, licking at a hard, flat nipple, earning herself a deep growl from Gene. She breathed in deeply, inhaling his unmistakable scent, becoming dizzy on the power and masculinity of him. The throb between her legs grew more insistent and she pressed herself against him, smiling as he captured her mouth in a slow kiss of such exquisite tenderness she nearly collapsed against him.

Breaking away, Gene urged her down onto one of the wooden dining chairs. Kneeling before her, he eased off her boots and pulled her top over her head. He put his hands on the waistband of her jeans and pulled them down as she wriggled herself free of them. "Beautiful," he murmured, taking in the sight of her in black bra and tiny lace knickers. His cock strained within his trousers, almost painfully hard, but he was determined to take his time. He wanted to drown her in sensation, give her so much pleasure she was mindless from it. He wanted to wrench his name from her lips as came.

He reached out and touched her knee, tracing a path inwards and along her thigh until he met the scrap of silk between her legs. Running his finger across it he drew a breath at its heat, damp from her juices. He slid his hands under the fabric and pulled the knickers down the length of her legs. Leaning closer again, he placed a kiss at the inside of her thigh before running his hands back up and around to her arse, pulling her towards him so she was perched on the edge of the seat, her legs open, exposing her to his searching gaze.

"Gene," she sighed as he licked at the tender flesh at the top of her thighs. She opened her legs wider, angling her hips up towards him, desperate to feel his mouth on her. Obliging, he slipped his tongue along her folds, breathing her in, unbearably turned on by her smell and her taste. He whirled his tongue around her clit, drawing gasps and sighs of pleasure from her, then traced down to slip inside her, feeling her slickness, her flesh throbbing against his tongue.

He continued licking and sucking at her, holding her close at her hips, loving her cries of desire as he drew her closer to the edge. Her body was wracked with sensation, hot and heavy. "Please, Gene," she moaned, bucking against his mouth, so nearly there. "Please make me come."

Growling deep in his chest, he pushed her shoulders gently down against the back of the chair, angling her up hips higher towards him, giving him even greater access to her intimate flesh. He slipped two fingers inside her, thrust slowly, grazing his teeth across her clit. She spiralled over the edge, exploding beneath his mouth, crying "God, Gene, yes, fucking yes," as she pulsed around his fingers, before collapsing, panting, smiling, into the chair.

"Gorgeous, Alex," he murmured, eyes drinking in the sight of her as she lay before him. He wanted to take her right there but knew the angles were all wrong. Instead he picked her up into his arms and carried her through to the bedroom. Setting her gently onto her back, he lay alongside her, pulling her carefully into arms. Her body was still trembling from the strength of her orgasm and yet as he kissed her, tongue deep in her mouth, the taste of her still on his lips, she could feel the arousal growing again.

"You're still wearing these," she smiled, her hands at his belt, eager to remove the final barriers between them.

"Not for much longer," he muttered, kicking away his boots and sliding his trousers, shorts and socks from his body. "And this," he added, unhooking her bra, leaving them both naked, arms around each other, legs entwined.

Already more turned on than he could ever remember, he groaned as her fingers curled around his cock, stroking him slowly, driving all conscious thought from his mind. He rolled her onto her back and settled himself between her legs. She kept hold of his cock and slid the tip across her aching clit, reaching down with her other hand to cup his balls. He lowered his head to her breast, his breathing heavy, taking her nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue lazily around the peak.

"Want you now, Gene," Alex moaned, tipping her hips up to receive him, sighing as he sank into her. She curled her arms around his shoulders, holding him tight, their lips joined in a deep, lingering kiss. He began to thrust within her, slowly at first, muttering incoherent sounds of need and desire. She rocked with him, heat building between her legs, spreading across her body, and she urged him deeper and faster, begging for release.

Looking up into his eyes she knew she was close. She angled her hips higher and felt him thrusting against her clit. She exploded around him, her eyes never leaving his, breathing his name, drowning in his gaze. He could hold on no longer and with one final thrust he came, losing himself within her, pulling her to him, finally complete.


	10. Chapter 10

**Thanks to all those who've made positive comments about this - it's great to get encouraging feedback. Hope you like the latest update.**

Gene woke to the smell of coffee and the sound of tuneless whistling from the kitchen. He pulled on shorts and shirt and followed his nose, hoping she'd made a mug for him. Alex bustled around the small kitchen, robe belted at her waist, opening and closing cupboards and drawers, distracted by the unfamiliarity of sharing her breakfast with a man.

"There's coffee in the cafetiere," she told him, handing him a mug. "Milk in the fridge. You want toast? Or – erm – I think I have some Alpen somewhere."

"Alpen? Christ almighty, Alex, I'm not a bloody donkey." She raised an eyebrow. "Sorry. Toast's fine. You want some help?"

"I think I'll be able to make toast unaided. Why don't you, oh I don't know, freshen up or something." She was finding it increasingly hard to concentrate while Gene stood over her, looking moody and rumpled and warm. Oh, and not fully dressed.

After helping himself to the coffee, Gene beat a retreat, planning on a quick shower and then – what, exactly? This was all such unfamiliar territory for him. He'd been married for the best part of a quarter of a century and, loathe though he was to admit it, he hadn't seen a whole lot of action since the missus had left. He was beginning to wish he'd made a bit of an effort with the ladies before meeting Bolly. Got a bit of practice in. At least then he might have had a bit of clue about what women wanted these days. About how to behave once he met one that – well – mattered.

Staring at himself in the bathroom mirror, he shook his head in disbelief that he'd managed to get this far. He had the beginnings of stubble around his chin, lines around his eyes, shadows beneath them. He looked shabby and worn out and every single one of his 45 years. He looked away, turning on the shower, so didn't see how the years fell away as he thought back to the previous night, a small smile creeping across his lips and a bright spark lighting up his eyes.

In the kitchen, Alex willed herself to settle down and stop acting like a virgin on her wedding night. Unlike Gene, she'd had her fair share of morning afters, but for some reason this one was proving more awkward than most. Perhaps it was because his intentions were so unclear. After all, although he'd never made any secret that he found her physically attractive, he'd also been fairly open in his criticism of her as a – what was it again – bitter, twisted, messed-up, clenched-arsed, toffee-nosed bitch. Yes, that was it.

She heard Gene pad into the bedroom and begin dressing. A couple of slices of bread went into the toaster for him and she poured a glass of orange juice. When he joined her in the kitchen, smelling faintly of soap and hair still damp from the shower, her awkwardness returned. She handed him the glass without meeting his eye, busying herself with buttering toast and opening the marmalade.

The silence lengthened between them as they moved around each other in the small kitchen, avoiding each other's gaze. He leaned against the worktop, eating his toast, watching as she tidied bits of crockery and cutlery away. He hated this tension between them but didn't know how to ease it. Was she expecting him to clear off straight away? Was that why she was acting as twitchy as a bucket of frogs? He let out a deep breath. "So," he began, striving for casual. "Got any plans for today?"

She thought quickly. Manicure, massage, facial and a haircut. "Nope. Nothing special. You?"

Buy Mam's birthday present. City away at White Hart Lane. "No, not really. Just pottering around."

"Oh. Right."

"Yeah."

"So, erm. You don't have to rush off, then?"

"I suppose not, no."

"Well, I was thinking," she lied, "about going to the market at Columbia Road. Want to, er, get something for the flat. Yes. If you felt like it, you could come? Help me carry stuff home." He didn't reply straight away and Alex felt suddenly insecure, convinced that he was about to make his excuses and run. "Or not," she babbled on, "if you don't want to. S'fine."

Shopping? No bloody way. "Okay," he said, drumming his fingers on the worktop. "Columbia Road – that's flowers, isn't it?"

"And plants."

"Could do with getting some clean clothes on first though. I could head home now, meet you there. Or you could come back with me and we could drive over together."

She realised she didn't want to let him out of her sight. Opted for the latter and after showering and dressing she found herself at Gene's house once again. He left her downstairs while he went up to change. She passed the time looking around the sitting room, searching for clues about Gene's character and history but coming up blank; he seemed to have eliminated any personal touches from this space. There was an overflowing ashtray on the coffee table and a pair of decanters and glasses on the sideboard, but otherwise it could have been a show home. Even the bookcase was empty, barring a couple of Robert Ludlum paperbacks and some files he'd obviously brought home from the office. She was about to look around further when she heard Gene coming back down stairs, a small bag in his hand and his overcoat over his arm.

"Finished nosing around, then?"

"Not much to nose at, really, Gene. The place is bare. Where is all your stuff?"

"Lock-up in Manchester, mostly. Couldn't be bothered to bring most of it when I moved down. Now, shall we go or is there something else you'd like to criticise?"

Rolling her eyes, she led him back to the car then held her breath as he drove in his usual fashion to the market.

"What is it exactly you're looking for?" he asked as they made their way through the rows of stalls.

"Just a couple of pot plants, I think. A fern for the bathroom. Maybe something flowery for the kitchen. Dunno. Hopefully I'll know it when I see it."

"Don't know what I'm doing here," grumbled Gene good-naturedly.

"Just relaxed and enjoy it," Alex laughed. A large fern caught her eye and she pointed it out to Gene, catching his arm. "Look at that one. Do you think it's too big? I like it though. What do you think?"

"I think," he replied, "that you're asking the wrong person. I have no idea what size of plant you should have in your bathroom."

"Oooh, look at the other one there, next to it. Better? I think so. But we should probably keep looking, in case there's something else that's just right."

She babbled on happily, spotting things she liked, asking his opinion. He played along, acting miserable but actually enjoying the sight of her so relaxed and animated. A couple of plants and some herbs for the kitchen later, Alex was ready to quit. They were heading back in the direction of the car when Gene spotted a stall selling saplings. He pulled her towards it, muttering about needing something for his garden. "I've neglected it, I suppose. Now would probably be a good time to sort it out."

"I didn't even know you had a garden, Gene."

He glanced across at her. "You've never bothered to ask.". It was said lightly enough but the look was pointed.

In the event, none of the saplings really suited Gene, although there was a useful leaflet about turf laying. He picked up the carrier bags containing her purchases, transferring them all to one hand, then took her arm with the other. It felt good, re-establishing this physical connection between them. Emphasising the shift in their relationship. The jealous looks he was getting from the other men at having her on his arm were a bonus.

They continued their walk back to the car until Alex pulled Gene to a pause. "It's pretty much lunchtime. We could get something to eat here. It says they do food."

Gene looked at the dingy pub, frowning. It looked awful and he wondered whether he knew any classier places nearby that he could recommend. Misjudging his silence, Alex found herself wondering yet again whether Gene was actually looking for excuses to head off. These sudden stabs of insecurity were really starting to irritate her; she was usually so confident and hated this new, wimpy Alex. Telling herself to get a grip, and about to offer Gene a graceful exit, she was both pleased a relieved when he said, "Nah, this place is a dive. There's a nicer one just along the way. Does a good pie and a pint. If you don't mind a bit of a walk."

They strolled north for half a mile, Alex gently teasing Gene about Manchester, Gene responding in kind about the softness of southerners. Arriving at the pub, Gene held the door open for Alex and led her to a table in the corner. He hoped she liked his choice of location. Sitting next to her at the table, a bottle of red between them, it felt to Gene like a date. He tried to force the thought from his mind. Things seemed to go much better between them when there was less pressure of expectation.

Over lunch, Alex conceded to herself that she hadn't always made enough of an effort to get to know the real Gene Hunt. She'd only seen him as the avenging copper, not as human flesh and blood. It wasn't too late to make amends. Finishing her meal, she decided to ask questions, trying to get a handle on this man who'd become her lover. She began by asking for his earliest memory.

Gene paused briefly, pushing aside the truthful answer involving a rumbling stomach and a beating in favour of a different early recollection, a happy one, of his mother and the smell of home made bread.

"Favourite colour?"

"Black. Or red. Black and red. Together, preferably. In lace."

A bubble of laughter escaped Alex's lips. "Favourite food?"

"Roast beef. Make a mean Yorkshire pudding."

"You cook?"

"I cook Yorkshire pudding. Counts."

"Best holiday?"

"Not had many. Went to Blackpool on honeymoon with the missus but we didn't see much beyond the room and the bar. Had a couple of weeks away Spain. One time, Marbella I think it was, the missus got Spanish belly and I got so burned I couldn't lie down without painkillers. Beginning of the end, really."

"Do you miss her?"

"The missus?" He didn't, he realised. He missed what she represented – status, security, the sense of having made a success at something. He didn't like admitting he'd failed at keeping his marriage together. But as for the wife herself? He'd stopped missing her even before they'd separated. "Nope. You?"

"Me what?"

"Miss your husband?"

"Ex husband. And no. Except in relation to my daughter. She misses him far more than I do, and I hate to see her being disappointed all the time."

"Your daughter…"

"I miss her. I want to get back to her. But I don't know how."

"Is she far away?"

With a slightly sad smile, Alex replied, "You could say that."

Gene gave a small nod. She'd be leaving eventually, once she could get back to her daughter again. Best make the most of having her here, then. He drained his glass and leaned closer to her. Ran a finger along her jaw, from earlobe to chin, turning her face towards his, planting a gentle kiss on her lips. "Let's get out of here. Get these plants of yours to their new home."

On the drive back to Alex's flat, Gene reflected on their conversation. It should have felt uncomfortable, revealing himself to her. He'd never been one for talking about emotions and feelings; he was barely able to articulate them to himself, let alone discuss them with others. But with Alex it had been easy, natural even. For the first time, he allowed himself to feel positive about the future.

Arriving back at Alex's flat, Gene set her bags on the coffee table and eased off his boots while she poured a glass of white for herself and a scotch for him. Taking the glass gratefully, he relaxed back on the sofa, waiting for her to join him.

"Nice morning," she told him, flopping alongside him. "Thanks for coming."

"Welcome. Next time you can come with me to the footie." The words were out of his mouth before he realised their implications.

"Next time?" she queried, one perfect eyebrow raised. "Well. As long as it's not Chelsea." Setting her glass on the table, she took his from his fingers and took a swig. Grimaced slightly. "Not sure what you see in this, Gene. Think I'll stick to the wine."

"All the more for me, then." He took the glass back from her and put it next to hers on the table. Pulling her closer, he gently cupped her chin and pressed a soft kiss on her lips. He was tentative, as if still unsure of his reception, but Alex's response, clear and enthusiastic, drove the doubt from his mind.

He pulled her closer, turning her towards him, pulling her leg across his lap so she sat facing him, straddling him, holding him. She looked down into his eyes and saw them darken with passion, knowing he could see her own arousal mirrored on her face. "Gene," she murmured, holding his face in her hands. She traced a finger across his lips, loving their softness and the thought of what they could do to her. He caught the tip of her finger between his teeth, licking the pad, then took it in his mouth and sucked hard, smiling at her sharp intake of breath.

"Want you, Alex," Gene growled, pulling her top over her head and unclipping her bra, slipping it from her shoulders and dropping it to the floor. He palmed her breasts, one in each hand, taking their weight, swiping his thumbs across her taut nipples.

"Love that, Gene," Alex sighed, "do it again." He leaned in, slipping one hand round her waist to keep her close, lifting a breast to his mouth with the other. He licked a path around the outer circle of her nipple, nibbling at the flesh of her breast, leaving her begging for more.

"You want this?" he asked, taking the nipple into his mouth and sucking, rolling the tip against his teeth with his tongue, making her cry out with desire.

"Yes, Gene, want it, want more," Alex moaned, tangling her hands in his hair, holding his head against her tits, squirming in his lap. Heat was building between her legs, the seam of her jeans rubbing against her clit as she ground herself against him.

She reached down to unbutton her waistband, pushing down the zip and wriggling as she tried to ease the jeans down. "Jesus, Alex," Gene groaned, shifting his hands to her arse and lifting her slightly so she could push the trousers from her body, one leg at a time. She sat back across him, wearing nothing but a tiny pair of black silk knickers, trimmed with red lace. Staring at her, sat on his lap, arousal flushing her skin, her breathing heavy and her nipples erect, Gene swallowed and growled into her shoulder, "So fucking sexy."

Desperate to feel him against her, Alex's fingers busily freed his shirt buttons, playing across his chest and flicking at his nipples as she went. He shrugged out of the shirt, pulling her next to him, feeling her tits press against him, her soft curves in sharp contrast to the hardness of his body. She could feel him growing beneath her and moaned as his fingers slipped beneath her knickers, curling around her body, his thumb circling her clit while his fingers thrust inside. "S'good, Gene, please, more," Alex breathed, moving her hips slowly against his hands, feeling the heat building between her legs.

Leaning down to him, she claimed his mouth with hers, slipping her tongue inside, tasting whiskey and cigarettes and pure Gene Hunt. She scraped her fingers down his back, drawing a groan from him as he continued to work her, sending her ever closer to her peak.

"Mmm, you make me feel so good," she panted, pulling away slightly and fumbling at his belt. Together they unbuttoned his trousers, and as he lifted himself slightly from the seat she pulled down his trousers and shorts. "God, Gene," she breathed as she looked down at his naked body, his cock hard and throbbing, the tip glistening. She took his length and stroked slowly, squeezing, teasing, running a finger around the rim and across the head, feeling it grow even bigger in her hand.

Gene dropped his head to the back of the sofa, groaning his approval. "Please, Alex, don't stop."

"Not stopping, Gene. Love how you feel."

Alex left a trail of hot, wet kisses along Gene's shoulder, nipping at his neck, sucking on his earlobe. The feel of him in her hand was driving her crazy, so strong and hard, and she knew she had to taste him. Before he knew what she was doing she slid to her knees in front of him and took his length in her mouth. "Alex, no," he muttered weakly, but he made no move to pull her away.

Kneeling closer, Alex took the base of his cock in one hand, gripping firmly, then cupped his balls with the other, her mouth sucking at his head. "Fuck it, yes, Alex, yes," he grunted as she ran her tongue around the rim, pumping with her hand, then retaking his length deep in her throat. Her clit throbbed between her legs as she tasted him, heard his groans of pleasure, glorying in the power she had over him. "More, please, take more," he mumbled, tipping his hips towards her, and she swallowed him further, loving how he filled her mouth.

Fuck, he was close, too close. Tugging her back up his body, he was desperate to be inside her. He pulled at the bows on her hips and tossed her knickers to the side, giving him complete access to her. Pulling her back across him, her thighs straddling his hips, his cock pushed against her slick folds, she trembled in his arms.

"Want you, Gene, please, fuck me, now," Alex panted, planting fevered kisses on his face and his lips, hanging on to his shoulders, writhing on his lap in a frenzy of need. He pulled her onto him, pushing into her, heard her cry "Ooh, Gene, yes," as his breath hitched at the feel of her tight around him.

She pulled herself closer, her body pressed against his, his cock buried deep inside her. Sliding his hands from her waist up her spine, curling them through her hair, he kissed her with all the passion he'd suppressed for so long. She rocked against him, small movements that rubbed her clit against his body, making her gasp into his kisses. "God, Gene," she whispered, "help me, please." She was so close, so tense, shaking to her fingertips, and as he bucked hard into her he sent her flying over the edge, shattering around him as she came. Feeling her tighten, hearing her cries, her taste on his lips, he thrust one last time before following her, pulling her onto him, crying, "Fuck, yes, now," coming hard inside her. He collapsed back to the sofa with her still in his arms, gasping for breath, waiting for his heart to return to normal, wondering what normal now was.

Catching her breath, Alex planted a final kiss on his shoulder before twisting off his lap and settling herself at his side. "Jesus, Alex.," he murmured into her hair. "What are you trying to do? Kill me?"

"Might be simpler," she replied with a smile. He reached to the table and retrieved their glasses, taking a sip of his whiskey while handing her the glass of white wine. She downed hers, grimacing. "Bit warm."

"Not the only thing," muttered Gene, drawing a laugh from Alex.

"What time is it?"

"Still early, I think. 'Bout four?"

"Right." Oh, God, here they were again. Should she ask him to stay? She wanted to, but knew he'd need a break. Wouldn't want to feel under pressure from her. Offer him a way out. "You've probably got plans for the evening, I suppose. You shouldn't feel like you need to change them for me."

Plans? The only plan he could formulate right now, with her naked and curled into his side, involved a take away menu and a Do Not Disturb sign on the door. But she seemed to be hinting that he should clear off. Perhaps she had plans of her own? Best not to think about that. "Got a few things I need to deal with back at my place," he lied. "Alright if I have a quick shower before I go?"

"Course." Pushing up from the sofa, Alex gathered her clothes and headed into the bedroom to fetch her robe. By the time she returned to the living room, she could hear the sound of his shower running. She smiled ruefully, wondering how she'd got herself in the position where she was longing for a few more minutes with Gene before he left.

He dressed in the bathroom before returning to Alex to say goodbye. He took hold of her waist and pulled her to him, circling his thumbs in the small of her back. Perhaps she'd change her mind and ask him to stay? He leaned over and brushed a soft kiss across her cheek. She didn't say anything.

"Bye, then, Bolly," he said quietly. "I'll, er, call you." God, he was rubbish at this. Everything that came out of his mouth was a bloody cliché.

"Do. Please," she replied, telling herself to let go of his shoulders and let him leave her flat.

Reluctantly, he pulled away and let himself out. On the drive home, Gene found he could no longer block out the thoughts that had been nagging at him since he'd slipped out of Alex on the sofa. He grimaced at the irony. He spent his professional life looking for clues, gathering evidence, making deductions based on the facts. But when it came to Alex, he'd been denying the evidence so long it had become second nature. Seemed he couldn't deny it any longer.

The feel of her mouth on him had been amazing. He'd had his fair share of blow jobs over the years but no one had ever pulled such sensations from his body. It had sent him reeling. He'd tried to keep control but each time they fucked – he absolutely wouldn't call it making love – he lost himself a little bit more.

Pulling up outside his house, he got out of the car and walked round to the boot, flipping it open. He picked up the overnight bag he'd packed that morning in a burst of optimism. Wouldn't be needing it after all.

**AN: I know Columbia Road is only on Sundays but I couldn't resist taking them there. Hope the authenticity police don't mind. **


	11. Chapter 11

Saturday night passed slowly into Sunday morning. Waking alone for the first time in days, Alex stretched and tried to enjoy the quietness and solitude. Not really working. She rolled onto her side and pulled Gene's pillow – the spare pillow – towards her, curling into it, breathing in his scent.

Good God Alex, you really have got it bad this time. The odd thing was, he remained the same neolithic Gene Hunt, the same shoot-first-ask-questions-later, old-school copper that he'd always been. She knew he wouldn't change one iota for her. Didn't really want him to. It was she who'd changed. Exposure to policing Hunt-style had reawakened her love of the chase and her excitement at putting away London low-life. She was relying on instinct and bending the rules more than she ever would have done in job in 2008, where spontaneity and risk-taking were greatly frowned upon. She supposed she had Gene to thank for that. And a bit more besides.

And now here she was, lying in bed, wondering what to do with her Sunday and trying not to think about Gene Hunt. She knew she should get a few groceries in but had a moment's hesitation about maybe missing a phone call. Giving herself a mental shake, she reminded herself sternly that she hadn't waited in for a bloke to call since she'd been desperate for a date at the end of term disco.

Other than the trip to the corner shop, though, she had little to fill her time. She mooched around her flat, trying to busy herself with housework, with cleaning and laundry. She studiously avoided looking at the telephone but couldn't stop herself wondering whether Gene would call her, what he would say if he did, how she should respond. She knew she could call him – even picked up the receiver – but the thought of his reaction was enough to defeat her. So she waited, wondering whether "I'll call you" meant "I'll call you tomorrow, can't go a day without hearing your voice," or "I'll call you next month, check you're not up the duff." Hmmph. She opened her cupboard but was all out of red. Heading downstairs to replenish supplies, she missed the sound of the phone ringing out in the briefly empty flat.

A couple of miles away, Gene Hunt put the receiver of his phone back in its cradle, letting out the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. Where was she? He'd spent the day wondering how long he should leave it before he called her. Too soon and he'd look like a creep. Too long and she'd give him hell and never speak to him again. Or do anything else. The last time he'd had to worry about that sort of thing, he hadn't yet begun shaving. Finally deciding that Sunday evening would be as good a time as any, he'd taken a deep breath and dialled her number. And then she hadn't picked up. Bloody woman.

What was he going to say to her, anyway? Bloody good shag, let's do it again? Didn't seem quite the right approach. And anyway, somewhere along the way, it had become more than just the shag. Did she know that? Did he want her to know that? She'd probably run a mile. Not for the first time, Gene reflected that life would be that much simpler if he she would just tell him what she wanted.

Sighing, Gene picked up the phone again and redialled her number. It rang ten, eleven, twelve times and Gene was about to give up again when he heard Alex's voice, breathy like she'd been running, saying hello.

"Alex. S'me. Er, Gene." Closed his eyes, wincing.

"Oh, hi. Wasn't expecting to hear from you so soon. How are you?"

Shit. "Fine. Am fine. You?"

"Great, actually. Busy day?"

No. Spent most of it thinking about you. "Pretty busy. Brought some work home. We're a DI down at the moment, you know."

"I heard something on the grapevine."

She sounded like she was smiling. That was good, right? He ran a hand across his eyes. "So, erm. If you're free tomorrow night, we could maybe go out for dinner? If you fancy it. Somewhere nice."

A huge grin split Alex's face; she was relieved he wasn't around to see it. "Okay," she replied, after a suitable pause. "Got anywhere in mind?"

Of course I haven't, you daft bint. How would I know anywhere nice? You're the one with the posh frocks and the silver spoon. "Yeah, I'll, um, book it tomorrow. Pick you up at eight?"

"Kay. Looking forward to it."

"Yeah. Me too."

"See you then, then."

"Yep. Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow."

"Bye."

"Bye."

Gene replaced the receiver and sat back in his armchair, a contented smile now working its way across his features. Perhaps he wasn't so bad at this after all.

xxxxx

At five to eight on Monday evening, Alex was pacing around her flat, telling herself for perhaps the hundredth time to calm down. It's only Gene, she told herself, the same man you've been working with every day for months, not bloody Prince bloody Charles. Nothing to worry about. All the same, she couldn't stop her stomach from flipping at the sound of the doorbell.

He was leaning against the door frame, keys jangling in his hand. His shirt was freshly pressed and he smelt of citrus and spice. Perhaps she wasn't the only one who'd made an effort.

He leaned towards her and placed a soft kiss on her cheek. He could feel her smile against his lips and smiled in return, relaxing just a little. "You ready? Or do you need to run around for five minutes, doing whatever it is women do before they can leave the house?"

"Ready," Alex laughed, picking up her clutch and a shawl for her shoulders.

Gene drove them into the West End, pulling up in Dover Street. He led Alex to a discreet front door that led into a lobby and coat-check area. The restaurant was in the basement, tables set far apart, white linen and red roses, cut glasses shining in the candlelight. A piano was set on a small stage in the corner. The waiter led them to their table and left them with menus and a wine list. Alex looked around, impressed. "Nice place. Been here before?"

"No. Luigi recommended it." Gene shifted uncomfortably, feeling out of place in the plush surroundings. He wasn't used to having waiters fussing over him or having to choose a bottle of wine from a menu that appeared to be several pages long. Not cheap, either. Still. She seemed to like it and he supposed he could put up with it.

"What? He didn't mind that we weren't eating at his, then?"

Actually, Luigi had been surprisingly helpful when Gene had approached him. An annoying twinkle in his eye, and a told-you-so expression on his face, but he'd come up with the goods so Gene couldn't really complain. "Couldn't wait to get shot of us."

"I can imagine."

Having made it through the ordeal of ordering food and wine, Gene began to relax and enjoy the evening. Alex was good company – funny, but not in her sometimes crazy way – and the meal was better than he expected, despite it being French. They chatted about nothing, agreeing to disagree about Margaret Thatcher and discovering a common interest in film noir and Raymond Chandler. As the waiter was clearing away their plates, Alex mused aloud about her future.

"I'm surprised I didn't get a call from DCI Blackwood today. I thought he'd be interested enough to get in touch."

"Who's he?"

"He's the DCI from Central and South division, where I put in for the transfer. I'd heard good things about him from the Super. Was hoping he could find room for me there."

"Ah." That bloody transfer application. He supposed he'd have to talk to her properly about it at some point soon. He just didn't really know what to say.

"Oh well, I suppose it's only been a day or so. Maybe he'd rather wait and go through the proper channels."

"Mmmm. Do you want desert? Or cheese?"

"Just cheese, I think. And coffee. Maybe I should give him a call tomorrow, see what he thinks of the idea."

"No! I mean, as you say, there are channels. I heard that he was quite the one for following procedure."

"Oh. I'll wait, then. Sounds like it could be quite a culture shock, after you."

Gene smiled and caught the eye of the waiter, ordering cheese and coffees and asking for the bill. Alex managed to suppress the urge to offer to go halves, knowing Gene would be offended if she did. Sexual politics was very different in 1981. Gene would need to pay, not so that she owed him a favour he could collect later but because it was the respectable thing for a man of his era to do. Maybe she'd be able to treat him next time.

Alex was quiet on the drive home. She was peeling away the layers surrounding DCI Hunt, getting closer to the real man beneath, and was finding to her surprise that she was liking what she found. He made her laugh, made her feel special and precious and very, very sexy. That is, when we wasn't infuriating her beyond measure. They stopped outside her flat and Alex turned to face him, putting a hand on his arm.

"Thank you, Gene. I had a lovely evening." She leaned across and placed a light kiss at the corner of his mouth. As she drew back she saw disappointment briefly flash across his face.

"The pleasure was all mine, Alex," he said gruffly. "I suppose you'll be wanting an early night, then. Don't worry. I'll just see you up and then get out of your hair."

"Gene," Alex said, her slight exasperation evident in her voice. "I can hardly believe I'm saying this to you, but you must stop being so oversensitive about this. Why would I want an early night? I don't want an early night. Please come up."

A beat, while Gene digested the rebuke. "Okay," he nodded, arranging his features into a stern pout. "But you'd better not be planning to take advantage."

Pulling a face, Alex led Gene up to the flat. She'd barely closed the door behind them before he was on her, arms around her waist, pressing urgent kisses against her lips, his hands stroking her back and cupping her bottom. "You look so beautiful this evening," he muttered as he pulled at the belt of her black silk shirtwaister. "I've been wanting to do this all night."

He freed the buttons holding her dress together, pushing it from her shoulders, allowing it to fall in a pool at her feet. He couldn't stop a low whistle as he took in the sight of her, dressed in a sheer black bra, silk knickers sitting low on her hips, lace-topped stockings and a pair of towering patent heels.

"Christ Almighty, Bolly. Are you sure you don't moonlight as a tom? You could make a fortune."

"You like what you see?" She stepped closer, put a hand on his shoulder and whispered in his ear, "If you're very, very good to me, I won't even charge."

"Oh, I'll be good, Alex," he murmured, pulling her to him and nibbling gently on her earlobe. "I'll be so good you'll forget your own name."

He kissed his way down her throat, across her collarbone and down to her breast. Swirling his tongue across her nipple through the fabric of her bra, he felt it tighten in his mouth and heard her mewls of pleasure. He sucked hard, friction from the bra increasing the sensation, and she cried out, head thrown back, hands tangled in his hair and holding him to her. "Oh, yes, Gene, that feels good, so good," she moaned.

He ran his hand down her body, lifting her leg so it curled around him. It brought them closer and she could feel his cock, hard and strong, pushing against her. She ground her hips into his, the silk of her knickers rubbing against her swollen clit, and he swept his hands across her arse, holding her tight against him.

"God, Alex," he muttered against her tits, "you feel bloody amazing." She tugged on his hair, pulling him up to her and taking his mouth with hers, drowning in the taste of him, squirming against his chest, her thigh rubbing against his hip.

"Want you, Gene," she murmured as he nibbled his way down her throat, sucking and biting at the sensitive spot where her neck joined her shoulder. "Please, now." She lowered her foot to the floor and began tugging at his shirt buttons, pulling away his tie, pushing his shirt over his head while he reached round her to flick open the clasp of her bra, slipping it from her shoulders. Their bodies pressed close, her fingernails scraping along his back as she pressed frantic kisses onto his face, her mouth against his, tongues entwined, the air pierced by cries and gasps and moans of desire.

She dragged her fingers down his spine, curving around his arse as he thrust against her. He felt her hands fumbling at his belt and groaned as she lowered his zip, her fingers grazing the length of his cock as they went. He kicked away trousers, shorts and socks, toed off his boots and stood naked before her. She was mesmerised by him, his solid chest, long legs and most of all his hard, heavy cock, throbbing at his centre. Biting her lip, she fell to her knees, desperate to taste him.

"So beautiful, Gene," she breathed as she closed her mouth around his cock, licking around the tip, his sharp, musky taste leaving her gasping.

"Jesus," he groaned, his hands in her hair as he held her against him. "So good."

She ran her hands over the cheeks of his arse, pulling him closer, taking him deeper into her throat. Sucking hard, she drew a moan of pleasure from him, and she closed her eyes, lost to the thought of everything but the feel of him filling her mouth. She moved a hand round to the base of his cock, across his balls, underneath. He opened his legs slightly and she explored further, all the time working him with her mouth and her tongue but now also caressing with her fingertips, stroking from his balls to his arsehole. She rubbed against it until he allowed her fingertip to enter and as she crooked it gently towards her she heard shouts of pleasure emanating from deep in his chest.

Holding her finger there she continued to suck on his cock, faster now, deep in her throat, driven mindless by the taste of him. She squirmed as she knelt, her clit pulsing between her legs, needing him to ease her ache. His knees began to buckle and he pulled her away, groaning his need to be inside her.

She allowed him to tug her back up to standing, sharing fast, wet kisses as his hands slid beneath her knickers and across her clit. "You're soaking," he growled, slipping two fingers inside her, his thumb continuing to circle her clit. "I know what you want, Alex. I know you want my cock in you."

"Yes, please, Gene," she begged. "Fuck me, want it now."

He pushed at her knickers, sweeping them over her arse until they fell to the floor, leaving her only in stockings and heels. He turned her round and she planted her hands firmly against the wall, her back arched and legs apart, head turned round to him, eyes darkened by passion as they raked him up and down. He came close, his chest against her back, hands feathering across her hard nipples, teeth biting at her shoulder and the base of her neck. She felt his cock slide between her legs and as it slipped against her throbbing clit she cried out, shaking with need. Reaching down she guided him into her and he pushed to the hilt, filling her completely.

Thrusting into her, deep and hard, she cried his name as he pinched at her nipple, his breath hot at her ear, ragged as his control began to slip. "So good, Alex, want you so much," he muttered, stroking from her breast across her stomach, reaching down to flick at her aching clit.

"Gene, yes," Alex cried, the familiar heat now spreading across her body. "I'm coming, Gene." He grabbed her hip with his free hand, holding her firmly against him as he thrust deep into her and she clenched around him, shouting his name as she came. Gene followed quickly, driven over the edge by the feel of Alex tighten around his cock, grunting against her shoulder as he flooded into her, her name on his lips at the end. She sagged against the wall as the final waves of her orgasm rippled through her, his weight heavy on her back, his arms wrapped around her, lips planting kisses at the back of her neck as he held her close.

Finally slipping out of her, he turned her around in his arms and kissed her slowly, catching her small sighs of satisfaction in his mouth. "That," he murmured huskily, "was bloody amazing."

She smiled in agreement, not yet able to find her voice. He lifted her carefully and carried her to the bedroom, setting her down gently and sliding alongside her. He stroked a hand along her body, dipping at her waist and over the flare of her hip, stopping at the top of her stocking. He slid it slowly down her leg, kissing the flesh as he revealed it, dropping it on the floor before repeating the action with the other. Alex smiled lazily, stretching, pulling Gene into a soft, gentle kiss. "Nightcap?" she asked.

"Hip flask's in my jacket pocket," he replied, feeling in need of the 10-year-old single malt he'd refilled that morning. She swung her legs off the bed and went in search of the flask.

As she bent to pick up Gene's jacket from the floor in the hallway, she reflected on their recent encounter. Shouldn't it be getting mundane by now? Now that the joy of discovery was over, now that she knew every inch of his body and how it felt next to hers, shouldn't it be getting less exciting, more ordinary every time? She knew that had happened with her other casual flings; the sexual spark faded with familiarity, boredom set in and eventually she'd moved on. But this was different. With Gene it was actually getting better, more exciting, more fulfilling with each encounter. She shook her hand slightly in disbelief. What on earth was happening to her?

Rooting around for the flask, she pulled out a piece of paper she recognised; the note she'd left him that first morning, the one he'd lost. She smiled that he'd kept it, putting it back in the pocket. As she did her fingers hit the flask and she pulled it out, along with some other paperwork she'd seen before. Her transfer application forms. What the hell? She froze for a moment, the glow fast leaving her body, as she turned the forms over in her hand. Anger growing, she dumped his jacket in a heap where she'd found it and she stormed back into the bedroom, a hundred livid questions fizzing through her brain.


	12. Chapter 12

**Thanks to everyone for their encouraging reviews. Hope you continue to enjoy this.**

xxxxx

"I forgot."

"You forgot! How could you forget? You offered! You got up from shagging me, took the bloody forms out of my hand and offered to put them in the internal post. And yet within minutes of leaving you 'forgot' that you'd volunteered to do this for me."

Alex paced up and down in the bedroom, her robe belted tightly around her middle, each sentence punctuated by angry waves of her hands and points of her fingers. She'd confronted Gene with his failure to submit her transfer requests and he'd swallowed, caught out in his omission. She hoped the hurt wasn't showing in her voice.

Gene sat on the edge of the bed, still naked. He shrugged, mumbling, "These things happen, love." He felt vulnerable as she towered above him, furious at his dereliction, sparks flashing in her eyes even as she opened her mouth to launch another tirade in his direction. She looked magnificent. He cursed himself for noticing.

He was well aware of the real reason for not handing in those flaming forms. No matter how difficult, how crazy, how insubordinate she might be, he wanted her with him. Worked better when she was there to bounce ideas off. Days were better when they ended sat next to her, sharing a bottle of red in Luigi's. More he thought about it, more he didn't want to be part of letting her go. And now here she was, giving him grief and taking the moral high ground as well.

Reaching the end of another verbal assault, Alex paused, deflated. She finished in a quiet voice, "You could have mentioned something this evening when we discussed it at dinner."

"We were getting on so well," Gene sulked. "I didn't want to spoil it."

"Well it's a bit late for that, isn't it! You're certainly spoiling it now! I just don't know how you could be so thoughtless."

"Fine," he snapped, reaching the end of his own patience now. "In that case I'll hand the bloody forms in first thing."

"Good."

"Good."

"Fine."

"Fine."

They paused for a moment, staring angrily at each other. Alex was the first to break the silence. "You're the one who insisted I go, anyway. We wouldn't be having this conversation if you hadn't sent me away."

She suddenly looked fragile, childlike, and she joined him on the edge of the bed. He wanted to take her hand, get back to that wonderful, warm moment before she'd gone off to find the hip flask. He didn't think there wasn't much chance of that.

Gene wondered why he found it so difficult to tell her what he really thought, the real reasons he couldn't work with her. How his feelings for her were clouding his judgement, how his attraction to her was getting in the way of the job. She probably knew now anyway. Instead, he clung to the pretence, holding on to it like a shield in battle.

"You disobeyed my orders, Alex. We wouldn't be having this conversation if you'd done what I told you." He felt miserable and defensive. She had him at a disadvantage and he wanted his clothing. Grimaced as he remembered it was all in the hall.

"So now it's my fault, is it?" The angry spark was back and she hopped off the bed, waving her arms around again. "You couldn't be bothered to do what you promised, and somehow I'm to blame." She stomped off to hallway and picked up his clothes, dumping them next to him on the bed. "You'll be needing these. I'm having a shower. You can let yourself out."

Watching her retreat to the bathroom, Gene felt his own anger growing, but it was directed mainly at himself and his own lack of confidence in telling her the truth. He reserved some for her, though, and her insistence on picking the most damaging explanation for his actions and beating him with it. Never crossed her mind that he might have kept hold of the forms because he didn't want her to go. Probably because it was so far away from how she felt.

Sighing, Gene picked up his clothes and dressed slowly, listening to the sound of the shower from the bathroom, trying not to think of her naked beneath the jets of water, looking fucking amazing even as she washed every trace of him from her body. He left the flat quietly and drove home, muttering under his breath about the bloody woman all the way. Pulling up outside his empty house, he walked round to the boot and opened it, picking up the same bloody overnight bag once again, slamming the boot back down in frustration.

xxxxx

Gene arrived early to work the next morning and made his way straight to Personnel, handing Alex's paperwork to a formidable looking secretary who promised she'd process it right away. Fine, he thought, walking back to his office. She wants her transfer, she can have her transfer. He didn't care if he never set eyes on her again. More bloody trouble than she's worth. He absolutely would not think about her body or her smile or her smell or the way she'd felt in his arms as they'd made love. Fucked.

A short distance away, Alex was eating breakfast and trying to concentrate on her newspaper, trying unsuccessfully not to think about Gene. He bloody forgot! Just like that! She really must be out of sight, out of mind, as far as he was concerned. Such a bloody bastard for messing her around, treating her like an idiot. How dare he? Bastard.

With nothing else to occupy her, Alex decided to indulge in some retail therapy and was returning from her shopping trip when she heard the phone ringing in her flat. Dropping her bags as she ran to the phone, she stifled her disappointment at hearing an unfamiliar voice ask to speak to DI Drake.

"Speaking."

"My name is DCI Blackwood," the caller continued in an adenoidal drone. "I've got your transfer request in front of me and I have to say I am, as it were, very impressed." He made a braying noise that could have been laughter but for the life of her Alex couldn't see what was funny.

"Right."

"But enough of the jollity, as it were," he continued. "I am bound to say that I will give your application my most serious consideration. Doesn't do to be premature, of course." He broke off, braying again, and Alex stared at the receiver in disbelief. "No," he went on, "can't say too much right now, of course, but I think you can safely assume that we're on the same page, as it were." Alex closed her eyes. She could almost picture him tapping his nose and winking.

"Right," she replied brightly. "Well, I'll await official confirmation, then, shall I? And, erm, thank you for the call."

"Pleasure, DI Drake, pleasure. It's Alex, is it? Do you mind if I call you Alex?"

Yes! "No. Of course not. Well, bye for now, then."

"Goodbye, Alex. We'll look forward to having you on board. As it were."

Replacing the receiver, Alex sagged onto the sofa, her head in her hands. How in God's name could she work for a man like that? After Gene? It was unthinkable.

Alex felt as though her world was closing in around her. She was about to be forced out of a job she'd grown to love and into one that sounded truly awful. Gene Hunt clearly couldn't give a damn about her or her future, leaving her miserable and nursing a myriad emotional battle scars. And as for getting back to Molly – she didn't even know where to begin any more. It was all such a mess. For someone who prided herself on her control, life was spinning crazily out of her grasp right now.

Enough. She might not be able to change the situation with Molly or Gene but she didn't have to end up with DCI Dull. She picked up the phone and put a call in to the Super.

"Sir, it's about my transfer request. I've been thinking, and I've talked things over with DCI Blackwood. I think, on reflection, that my, er, expertise is better applied elsewhere."

"Go on, DI Drake."

"Well, DCI Blackwood has a reputation for, um, innovative thinking and a modern approach. He's well up to speed with current psychological thinking and has done some unusual work with profiling. It's one of the reasons I applied there in the first place. But on consideration, I think it would be better if I worked somewhere that was more in need of modernisation. Somewhere that was a bit more, well, old school."

"I see. You feel the need for more of a challenge, then?"

"Yes! That's absolutely right. A challenge." Gene was certainly that. She knew the Super thought Gene needed dragging into the 1980s and she was just the woman to do it.

"Right you are then, DI Drake. Leave it with me."

"Thank you, Sir. Will you let DCI Blackwood know? I wouldn't want to waste any more of his time."

The Super agreed to liaise with DCI Tedious and Alex rang off with at least the beginning of a smile on her face.

xxxxx

"Guv?" Shaz called across to him from her desk. "Super's on the phone for you. I'm putting him through."

Reluctantly, Gene picked up the receiver when it began to ring. "Gene. I've had an interesting conversation with your DI. Seems she doesn't want to transfer to DCI Blackwood after all."

Gene let out a breath. "Is that right, Sir?"

"No," replied the Super, laughter in his voice. "Seems he's not enough of a challenge for her."

"I'll bet."

"She wants to work with someone a little more, how shall we put it, behind the times. Someone who stands to benefit more from her expertise."

"I see." He tried hard to squash the hope that was rising in his chest but couldn't stop a small bubble escaping, working its way into a smile on his face.

"Yes. So I thought about it and, you know, between you and me, there's a DCI who could really use a little shove into the modern world. I'm going to recommend she works with him."

"Really?" He couldn't stop the smile now. "Who's the lucky winner?"

"DCI McAndrew."

"Who?" What? Who?

"McAndrew. Excellent fellow, but a little old fashioned when it comes to modern methods. I'm sure DI Drake will be able to persuade him round, though, don't you think?" He chuckled on the end of the line and didn't seem to mind that Gene was stony silent in return.

Eventually finding his voice, Gene commented, "Not sure I've had the pleasure of meeting this McAndrew."

"No, well, you probably wouldn't have. He's based in Strathclyde."

"Strathclyde!" Gene spluttered, feeling his insides tighten.

"It's in Scotland. Glasgow."

"I know where it is! It's – a long way away. Sir."

"Well, I certainly got the impression that she wanted to try her skills in a tough area, and it doesn't get tougher than that. Still, I'm sure she's more than up to the job, wouldn't you agree?"

"Of course."

"So you've got no objections to the transfer, then, Hunt? For the record?"

"What? Er, no," he replied dully. "If that's where she wants to go, she can go."

"Great. Well, I'll get the paperwork sorted and she'll be out of your hands in no time. Good of you to be so understanding."

And with that they said their goodbyes, Gene slowly replacing his receiver before dropping his head in his hands. Pulling open his desk drawer he took out the bottle of scotch he stored there and poured himself a healthy measure. Can't stop her going, he thought to himself, downing the drink. Doesn't seem like she's got much to keep her here. She'd made it clear that whatever had happened between the two of them wasn't enough to make her want to stay. He poured himself another before thinking about making the lonely journey home.


	13. Chapter 13

**This is the final chapter of this story. Thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed, I hope you enjoy the final installment. Thanks also to Lucida Bright for betaing this chapter.**

xxxxx

Someone had made a banner, "Good Luck Boss", and hung it across the mural in Luigi's. Alex guessed it was probably Shaz's work, as was the card – not signed by Gene – and the gift of book tokens. It was Friday night, nearly two weeks since she'd had the call from the Super about the transfer northbound, and she was having a small leaving drink with the team. Most of the team, anyway. Gene wasn't present; she hadn't seen or heard from him since their final row.

Ray and Chris were leading the drinking games. Chris, his reserve lowered now that Alex was no longer his DI, was trying to persuade her to join in. She'd had a glass or two already but wasn't in the mood for more. At the moment she could pass for happy and tipsy; it wouldn't take much to tip her over into morose and drunk.

The past ten days had vanished in a blur of activity, making arrangements about the new posting and moving her life, such as it was, north of the border. She was glad of the distraction.

How had this happened? When had she stopped laughing at Gene as a larger-than-life construct and begun to actually care about him? When had she started to want him more than he wanted her? When had she begun to view running away to Scotland as an escape route for a battered heart?

She'd been able to fill the daylight hours with frantic action, with plans and lists, boxes and bubble wrap, but the nights had dragged eternally. Long, cold and lonely, she'd been unable to stop herself dwelling on those few short encounters with Gene. She'd relived his touches, imagined his lips on her body, his arms holding her tight, until she fallen into an exhausted sleep, only to find her dreams occupied by his brooding presence. She woke frustrated and miserable, feeling more tired than when she'd gone to bed.

Alex couldn't really hide out at the bar any longer. She was the guest of honour, after all, even though she had rarely felt less in the mood for a party. Pouring herself one last small glass, she reflected wryly that at least now she'd never have to choose between Molly and Gene. She no longer needed to feel guilty about falling for Mr Hunt, about having to share her affections between her daughter and her lover. It wasn't making her feel altogether better.

She didn't notice him when he first came in. He stood at the bottom of the stairs, watching as she nursed her drink, stomach twisting as he drank in the sight of her. He marvelled how her sheer beauty still held the power to punch him in the gut; even after working with her every day for months, even after imprinting every part of her body on his memory, she could still render him speechless with just a look.

He'd been a bastard at work since the phone call with the Super. He knew Shaz had been making arrangements for Alex's transfer, had even heard her speaking to Alex on the phone once or twice, but had studiously avoided speaking to Alex himself. Her decision to transfer to what was basically another country – they barely even spoke English, for God's sake – suggested to Gene that his attentions were no longer required.

Everyone had noticed his miserable mood. He'd hardly been able to keep it a secret, shouting, bullying and drinking his way through the last week, and most of the team had been keeping their heads down as far as possible, trying to avoid his temper. Only Shaz had dared approach him. She'd tried to ask what the problem was – had even tried to bring up the subject of Alex and the transfer – but he'd bitten her head off and she'd retreated, a sad look on her face.

He'd almost decided not to come this evening, but in the end he'd reckoned he ought to say goodbye. In any case, he had something to give her. He continued to stare across at her. She wore some slinky red thing, belted around her middle, and spiky grey ankle boots. Looking at her made his chest ache. He'd never wanted anyone or anything with the same intensity as he wanted her. Right now, over the bar, if possible. Smiling wryly to himself he crossed to her, just as she was standing up from her stool to join the others. Seeing him, she sat back down with a jolt.

"Gene. Wasn't sure you could make it." She poured an extra glass and handed it to him, hoping he didn't notice how her hand was shaking.

"Can't stay long," he said gruffly. "Just wanted to see you off. Give you these."

He handed over an envelope and a two gift-wrapped parcels. One was rectangular and small, the other bigger and flatter, about the size of a photo frame. She looked at him in surprise but he just shrugged. "You can open that one now," he said, pointing at the smaller box, "but leave the other until you get to Scotland."

She opened the card, feeling her heart contract as she took in the "good luck" message on the front, Gene's scrawled signature inside. There was no other valediction, no love or best wishes, but she replaced it carefully in the envelope anyway.

Turning to the gift, she slid her fingers under the tape, trying to keep the confusion and surprise from her face. The wrapping paper fell away to reveal a slim, green box, Waterman written in gold lettering across the lid. Opening it she revealed a red fountain pen with a gold nib. "It's beautiful," she said softly. "Thank you."

"Yeah, well. Thought it would help you with the paperwork when you get to Strathclyde. And you've always been a mouthy tart – never use one word when five will do – so it seemed to suit you."

Alex smiled, absurdly touched by his gesture. He was standing close to her, leaning over her as she sat on the stool, and her every nerve-ending was attuned to his commanding presence. She could smell his scent, even feel the warmth from his body, his breath against her cheek. Suddenly the reality of the situation struck her and, to her horror, she felt her eyes begin to prickle with the threat of tears. Looking away, she muttered, "Excessive wordiness not a problem you'll be encountering with the team in future, I suppose. Not now you've got what you wanted."

Gene sent her a sidelong glance, frowning. "Life will certainly be quieter now you're not going to be around."

Alex let out a mirthless laugh. "All the better for you to regain control of your little kingdom."

"Control's important, you know, Alex. Everyone needs to know who's the boss, who's in charge. When someone doesn't follow the rules, they put everyone else in danger. I can't have that on my team."

"You know your problem?" Alex turned to face him, poking him in the chest, anger and hurt and frustration combining in an explosive tirade. "You're scared to admit that anyone else might have anything useful to contribute. You think that allowing alternative views somehow threatens your own power, when in fact the opposite is true. It's not a sign of weakness to allow debate and discussion, Gene. It's actually a sign of confidence."

"Is that right?" Gene shot back. "Well, you would know. They don't come more confident than you. And there's a fine line between confidence and arrogance, Alex, and I'm not always sure which side you're on." It wasn't true, he knew. Alex wasn't remotely arrogant, just sparky and bright and self-assured. But she provoked such defensive reactions from him. He didn't know how to tell her the truth so he spat and shouted instead.

"Well," she replied, anger flushing her cheeks and brightening her eyes, "it's not going to be your problem any more, is it? I'm off your team and apparently out of your life as well."

"You wanted to go!" Gene was dimly aware that the rest of the bar had fallen silent but couldn't hold back his angry accusations. "The Super told me you wanted a challenge, wanted to stretch your wings. You couldn't wait to get away from the team, and from me."

"How do you know what I could or couldn't wait to do? You authorised this transfer. If you hadn't wanted me to go, you could have refused. So I think it's pretty bloody clear, Gene, what you actually think about my departure." Her chin jutted and her eyes glinted dangerously as she stared across at him.

"If you had bothered to ask, Alex, you might have found that things aren't as clear cut as you seem to think," he shouted, thumping his hand on the bar for emphasis. "But you didn't ask, did you? You didn't care enough to ask. So don't you be giving me a hard time about not talking."

"How dare you?" she spat. "You order me to transfer so I complete the forms. You offer to submit the forms but then forget. You authorise my transfer to the other end of the country and then don't speak to me again until my leaving drinks. I don't need a bloody map to know where this is leading, Gene."

The air between them crackled with tension as they stared at each other in the silence of the bar. They were practically nose to nose, pulses racing, breathing hard, neither wanting to be the first to look away. Eventually Gene cracked, drained his glass and growled, "Upstairs, Alex."

"What?"

"Upstairs. Now. I am not continuing this in front of this rabble." He took hold of her wrist, tight, almost painfully. She looked at him, sensing how precarious was his hold on his temper, how close he was to breaking.

"Do we have anything left to continue?"

Gene stuck out his lower lip and looked at her along his nose, his mouth set in a determined scowl. "You know we do."

She felt herself tremble but she couldn't look away. She pulled her arm from his grip; giving a small nod and gathering up her bag and jacket, her cards and gifts, and ignoring the shocked faces on the members of her former team, she stalked out of the bar and up the stairs to her flat, Gene in her wake.

Walking across to the kitchen, Alex dropped her things down on the work surface and took a wine bottle from the cupboard. "Want something?" she asked, turning around to see Gene close behind her. He took the bottle from her hand and set it on the counter, taking her face in his hands.

"Want you, Alex," he muttered, leaning closer, kissing her, wrapping his arms around her. "Always want you." She leant against the counter top, her arms around his neck, matching him kiss for kiss.

He lifted her onto the counter top and she raised her legs around his waist, ran her hands through his hair. This was a bad idea. She knew it was a bad idea but God, the taste of his skin, the feel of his body, she was helpless to resist. She sank into his heat, urging herself closer, tightening her legs around him, feeling her control slip under his confident touch. Pressing frantic kisses on his neck, his throat, across his cheekbones and back to his mouth, she gasped as he ran his fingers along her spine, taking hold of her hips and pulling her tight against him.

He should go. He knew he should go, that the later he left it the more it would hurt, but she was moaning into his kisses, squirming in his arms and he was sunk, barely able to think let alone move away. If this was the last time he'd make it count. He felt her pull his shirt from his trousers, her hands smoothing across his back, and he groaned into her neck, relishing her touch, savouring every moment.

He slid his hands along her bare thighs, smoothing beneath the skirt of her dress until they reached her hips and the lace of her knickers. She clung onto his shoulders while he lifted her slightly and eased her knickers down her legs, dropping them to the floor. He bent to place kisses at the crook of her knee, up the inside of her thigh, breathing her in, moving towards her core.

"Gene, yes," Alex sighed as she felt his mouth against her. She angled her hips towards his mouth, her legs wide apart, her body fully open to him. "God, yes, more." He licked a trail to her clit, sucking on the small nub, causing Alex to cry out as pleasure flowed through her. Slipping two fingers inside her, he began to thrust gently, continuing to lick and suck at her, feeling her shudder as she pulsed against his tongue. She threw her head back as he worked her, hands and mouth caressing, heat rippling across her body, building in waves as she began to shake, crying his name, coming hard beneath his hands and his lips. As she stilled, he gathered her in his arms, carrying her to the bedroom and depositing her carefully on the bed.

He helped her out of her dress and underwear before shrugging off his own clothes, joining her naked on the bed. She hooked an arm around his shoulders, pulling him down to a long, sensual kiss, tongues sliding and licking, teeth nipping, until his head swam with his desire. He rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him, and she dropped kisses along his collarbone, down his chest, across his belly until she reached his erection.

"Jesus, Gene," she breathed, taking in the sight of his strong, powerful cock. She ran a hand along its heavy length, stroking slowly, circling a finger around the head, watching intently as it grew in response to her caresses. She gripped him firmly near the base and lowered her head towards him, taking him deep into her mouth, pumping gently as she sucked and licked. The taste and smell of him was turning her on and her own arousal grew as he began to buck towards her. She heard him groaning, calling out for more as she took him deep in her mouth, one hand on his cock while the other stroked his balls.

"Alex, my God," Gene muttered, "no one ever… so bloody good…" He tangled his fingers in her hair, precariously close to the edge, and knew he needed to be inside her. Tugging her back up his body, he planted wet kisses on her mouth as she straddled him, her tits brushing his chest, her thighs wrapping around his hips.

She gasped as she slid on to him, feeling him fill her completely. She began to ride him, her pace increasing as she drove herself towards the peak, moaning as heat flowed through her body. Gene slid his hands along her spine, cupping her arse as it bounced above him, loving its softness, holding her firm.

"Gene, yes," she cried, "I'm coming, now," and she bucked hard until she shattered around him, moaning his name even as he followed her. He grasped her hips while he flooded into her, arms around her as she sagged, replete, onto his chest.

He was still panting when he sensed her opening her mouth, about to speak. Lord above, did the woman ever stop talking? He put his finger to her lips, whispering, "Not now, eh, Bolly?" He figured he could probably wait until the morning before getting his marching orders.

Lying in his arms, hearing his heartbeat slowly returning to normal, she conceded that perhaps now wasn't the best time to launch into conversation. Instead she allowed herself to sink into sleep, secure alongside him, one final time.

xxxxx

She wasn't sure what woke her. Gene lay on his front, snoring evenly, one arm flung heavily across her body, possessive even in his sleep. She smiled to herself, loving how sleep softened his features, made him look younger, boyish even. Closing her eyes, she tried to drift back to sleep but it was proving elusive. A glass of water might help. She eased herself out from under his arm, laughing softly as he grumbled at her departure, and picked up her robe, belting it around herself as she wondered towards the kitchen.

She was reaching for a glass from the cupboard when she noticed the presents and cards she'd left on the work surface the night before. The fountain pen really was beautiful and she picked it up, admiring its elegant lines once again. It had been thoughtful of Gene to give it to her; perhaps he wasn't quite as insensitive as he made himself out to be.

She put the pen down next to the other present Gene had given her. The glass of water now forgotten, she stared at the second gift, remembering Gene's request that she not open it until she reached Scotland. Should she? She hadn't actually promised that she wouldn't. Her fingers inched towards it, curiosity winning out. Glancing towards the bedroom, she knew she shouldn't but he'd never know. She picked it up and peeled away the wrapping, biting her lip as she stared at the antique print within.

It wasn't a picture. It was an illustrated poem, by William Butler Yeats. It was short and she read it quickly, leaning against the counter as the familiar words sank in. Reading it again, she found the letters began to blur as tears welled in her eyes. Why had he given it to her? What did it mean?

She was still staring at the print, her fingers tracing the words, when she became aware of his presence, leaning against the door frame. He'd pulled on his shorts and his shirt was hanging open across his shoulders. Noticing what she was looking at, he frowned. "Never could do what I told you to, could you, Bolly?" he said softly. "That's how we got into this mess in the first place."

"Gene," she said with a start. "This… it's lovely." She wondered whether he could read the question in her eyes.

"Not really one for poetry, Alex, as you could probably guess. But I saw it when I was buying the pen. Seemed – I dunno – right, somehow. Wanted you to have it." Nothing to lose, now, he supposed. No point in hiding any more.

She swallowed. "What do you mean, right?"

"I'm no good at talking about this stuff, Bolls. You know that."

"I don't understand, Gene. How can I understand if you won't talk to me?"

He nodded at the frame in her hand, jutting out his chin. "Says it all." Said everything he didn't know how to. She was silent in response as she stared again at the poem. "Perhaps I should go."

"No! Please. Don't go." She was bewildered, trying to piece together what he wasn't telling her.

He ran his hand across his face, sighing, "Bolly, please. Enjoy Strathclyde. They're lucky to have you." He turned to head back to the bedroom, muttering under his breath, "They don't know how bloody lucky."

"Gene," she called after him, suddenly propelled into action. "Gene, why did you tell me to transfer? It wasn't that bad, what I did with the blaggers in the bank. Certainly not bad enough to need me off the team. What did you really want, Gene?"

He stopped in his tracks, his back to her. He paused so long she didn't think he was going to answer. "I'm tired of this, Bolls," he eventually muttered, still facing away from her. Taking a deep breath, he continued, "After the bank job, I realised couldn't take it any more. I hated what you were doing to me. Hated how much power you had over me. You could get me to do whatever you wanted, you didn't even need to try."

"Gene, I –"

"And I hated how my feelings for you made me question my judgement."

"Gene, please –"

"No, Alex! I will get through saying this. And then I will go home and you will toddle off up to Scotland and we can both forget this uncomfortable little encounter ever happened. So if you will allow me to continue."

He took a steadying breath, his back still towards her, and plunged ahead. "The fundamental problem, Alex, the reason why I didn't want you on the team any longer, was because I couldn't stand having you so close every day and not be able to have you. It killed me, Alex. It kills me still. Even now, even after this," he waved his hand in the direction of the bedroom, "it's killing me. Because I still haven't got you, Alex, have I?" He turned, pointed at the poem she clutched in her hand. "I'll never have you like that."

Alex looked at Gene quizzically. Was that what he really wanted? She walked slowly across to him, looking at him, really seeing him, perhaps for the first time. He stood in front of her, staring at the floor. She put her hand on his shoulder, trying to catch his eye. "Look at me, Gene," she asked softly. "Please, look at me." Reluctantly he raised his eyes to hers. "You don't have to be scared, Gene."

"Not scared," he scoffed, desperate to escape, rooted to the spot.

She finally understood. Finally realised the cause of his anger, his aggression towards her, his resentment and his awkwardness and most of all his passion. She hardly dared believe it but instinctively knew she'd need to be the one to make the next move. Her heart racing, she took his hand, hoping the truth of her words would be clear in her eyes. "You have got me, Gene," she murmured, holding the poem between them. "You have got me like this."

She saw the confusion, the disbelief flash quickly across his features. "Don't do this, Alex," he warned. "Don't do this unless you're completely sure. I could walk away now, if I had to, and come out the other side. It'd be hard but I could do it. But if you ask me to stay, offer me…" He stopped abruptly, looked away for a moment before he could go on, "…and then change your mind, I don't think I could get over that. You must be sure." His heart raced as he waited for her reply, preparing himself for the worst, trying to squash the shoot of excitement that was beginning to spiral through him.

"Come, Gene," she smiled, drawing him back to the bedroom. "I am sure. I wasn't always, I know. But I am now. Come. Let me show you."

xxxxx

Later, holding Alex in his arms, dropping gentle kisses on her nose and cheekbones, Gene could no longer hold back the bubbles of happiness that were bursting from him. "Is this really happening, Alex? I've dreamt about this for so long. I keep thinking I'm going to wake up."

She smiled sleepily across at him. "It's definitely not a dream. And you wouldn't have to worry if it was. I tread softly."

"Pleased to hear it," he smiled back. He gathered her closer, breathing her in. "What are we going to do about Strathclyde?"

She sighed. "I don't know, Gene."

"Bloody stupid idea, that was."

"Your bloody stupid idea."

"What? I never wanted you to move to the other end of the country, Alex, that was all you."

"Excuse me? I wanted to stay. I practically told the Super to refuse the transfer request, but I think he may have got the wrong end of the stick. I'd never have agreed, though, if he hadn't told me you were happy for me to go."

"Happy? I was miserable. But he told me you wanted to go, to stretch your wings or some such bollocks."

"Bollocks indeed," she laughed. "Never been happier than right here." She snuggled closer to him, her head on his chest. "We'll sort something out about Strathclyde. I'm sure I can get the Super to change his mind. He's an old romantic at heart."

Gene snorted. "If you say so. Don't care, as long as you stay in London."

Alex smiled, pressing a sleepy kiss against his chest. "Not going anywhere," she mumbled, listening to the reassuring sound of his heartbeat beneath her ear. As she closed her eyes, sleep about to claim her, the final thing she saw was Gene's poem, propped up on her bedside table. She drifted off with a smile on her face.

xxxxx

**He wishes for the cloths of heaven**, by W B Yeats

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,  
Enwrought with golden and silver light,  
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths  
Of night and light and the half-light,  
I would spread the cloths under your feet:  
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;  
I have spread my dreams under your feet;  
Tread softly, because you tread on my dreams.

**xox The End xox**


End file.
